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katsukikitten · 4 years ago

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Part one. Master list for plus one can be found here.

Just a nice fic I decided to write for fun. Please enjoy!

Asshole!

He was nothing but a huge, giant fucking ASSHOLE for the entire two years the two of you were dating and he decides NOW is a good time to break up with you?

Two days before your cousin's wedding and over TEXT MESSAGE?!

That fucking asshole.

He knew how you felt. Exactly how you felt about going alone to your cousin's wedding after your family begged to meet your boyfriend and teased you for "probably making him up." Which hell, he may as well have been made up considering how absent he was in the relationship. Using work as an excuse to come home late but forgetting to turn off his snap location when he showed up at the bar.

So you did what any rational woman in her upper twenties would do.

You drowned your sorrows in booze, tonight red wine as it was the only thing around, and you scrolled through your socials in hopes of distracting yourself from your suffering.

Alas the devil that is Instagram only amplified your sadness and irritation. Showing couple after couple, your friends on hikes kissing on the mountain top, kissing in the flickering light of candles at a fancy dinner or, worst yet, getting proposed to. The video showing her in hysterics screaming, "YES I DO I DO!"

And it feels terrible to feel this way. Especially about your friends, the people you love and want to support, still it stings. You hadn't told anyone about the breakup, you weren't even sure your friends even remembered that asshole's name.

A teardrop lands on your screen, magnifying all the magical lights of the led beneath the glad. You wipe away the tear and with that the feed refreshes. A new post has come in at the top, Res Riot's official account.

Kirishima stands with a fat white cat in his arms. He dwarfs the animal with his large stature that looks larger as he still has his Red Riot gear on. The caption reads something along the lines of "missed my precious baby."

Red wine is a dangerous thing as your body acts on its own. You go to his page to hit the little arrow to DM him. Typing out and backspacing your message as you struggle from the booze, you decide to say fuck it and use the voice memo feature. Before you know it your sniffling voice is playing back to you after you've hit send.

"My ex broke up with me before this stupid wedding. It's in two days and my family is going to roast me big time when I show up alone. They think I made that asshole up. I don't know why I'm even in your dms. Your account is probably run by some dick head who can't even capture your kindness. I guess I'm here cause my first thought seeing you on my timeline was Red Riot has always been my hero…"

Ugh totally fucking cringe.

There is no surprise as you see the three normally ominous dots pop up, probably his social media manager about to ask you to stop your "advances" as Kirishima is too busy to date and he'd hate to block you or some other bullshit.

But there it is a surprise to see a little bubble with the play button and some vertical lines in various heights. It takes your sluggish brain a moment to realize you've been sent a voice memo. Odd. Your thumb smashes the screen faster than you can think and a deep voice rumbles through the speakers of your phone.

"Actually I run my official and personal socials. And I'm sorry to hear about your ex doll. He sounds like a real ass. I'll be your hero, I'll go with you to the wedding."

Your heart stutters, no way, no way in HELL this was Red Riot. You had read about the horror stories before or pervy account managers taking advantage of women who so desperately wanted to talk to their hero.

Hell, it's happened to Dynamight plenty of times.

You swallow quickly but the bile rushes up your throat. Not just from the anxiety of a possible con but from drinking an entire bottle of wine with nothing on your stomach after months of sobriety. Quickly you stumble to the bathroom, abandoning your phone on your bed. You barely make it in time to praise the porcelain Gods before you fall onto your back. Looking up at the light in your cramped bathroom, the orb doubles and spins as you feel the Earth turning on its axis. You curl into your side using your bathmat as a pillow as you drift off into sleep, totally forgetting about the voice memo on your phone.

As you sleep peacefully on your memory foam bath rug, Kirishima settles into his nightly routine. One giant hand grabbing strands of long dark red hair into a towel while another sits snugly around his Adonis belt and the thick, black happy trail that follows up the center of his abs before spreading out onto his chest. He tosses the towel over the open door of the bathroom before sitting in his favorite armchair with phone in hand. Diamond, his beautiful white cat he rescued a few years ago, jumps onto the arm of the chair, purring loudly when Kirishima's free hand scratches her ears absentmindedly.

He chuckles to himself as he realizes exactly what he's done. Acting on a feeling instead of logic all because he heard a "damsel in distress." Starting off his rare vacation with spontaneity starting with an impromptu date with a stranger. He really isn't sure what you look like and it's obvious your handle doesn't have your real name in it, just PrincessPeach with some random numbers at the end. He takes the time to scroll through your profile. Seeing pictures of food, of many sunsets, a friend's dog that guest appears often, your own cat and plenty of strays.

It takes him a while before he sees a photo of you. His heart stutters in his chest as he looks you over. Laughing with a friend, soft lighting from strings over head that blur like little fireflies. Your smile is wide, half hidden by your hands as your eyes seem to smile with you. Sparkling as if they held stars.

For a moment Kirishima forgets how to breathe, it isn't until Diamond jumps down from the armchair does he inhale. He smiles softly to himself before he drops his towel, puts his phone on charge and promptly falls asleep in his bed.

Kirishima rises before the sun even has a chance to filter through his blinds. He sighs softly, getting up to a sitting position disturbing a fluffy white ball that lays beside him.

"Mmrow." Moon stone eyes blink slowly as they look at the mountainous man hogging the bed.

"I didn't mean to wake you sweet baby." He says softly, going to pet the soft white fur only for her to get up stretch and give him her butt before plopping back down.

"I know, mean ol' daddy woke you up too early again." He says softly, his hand falling onto her back before he rises from the bed. Fishing for his running shorts, socks, headphones and shoes. He makes his protein shake, leaning on the counter as he drinks it, looking at how you read, or better yet, listened to his message but still no reply. It was late and there was a small slurring of your words, he figures you've passed out. He just hopes you're okay.

His run goes as usual, up before anyone else unless they were the normal avid runner. Passing by the usual array of people. An old man holding onto his youth by jogging through his daily five mile morning run, Kirishima knows he runs another five in the evening while the sun is setting. He hopes he can embody some of this man's commitment when he is older. Then he passes a middle aged woman, who gives him the biggest smile as she pases, jogging backward to send him a wink before plowing ahead. Occasionally he'll see a running group or a few teens training to be heroes, they always ask if they can run his route. "It's long." He always warns in a kind, warm voice. They assure him they will be fine so far only one other person could handle his 12 mile morning run. A young woman in her second year of hero courses at UA. Since then Kirishima put in a word with his boss and so every time internships roll around she's in the office.

By the time Kirishima is rounding back towards his high rise apartment, the city begins to stir. Slowly waking as men and women in business suits rush towards the train, parents flinging open the doors or curtains fussing at their children who cling to an extra few minutes of sleep before school.

This was always his favorite part of the run, not because it was almost over, oh no it was because he had a chance to glimpse at everyday life. Of nine to fives, of school hours and after school hangs outs at snack bars or the library.

What most would call the mundane but Kirishima would never call it that. It's why he worked so hard to protect it.

Diamond greets his sweaty form at the door. Glaring angrily with her moon stone eyes. Tail swishing before she goes to the kitchen by her bowl. Waiting impatiently.

"I'm not late, sweet cheeks." He coos, and she glares, "I know I know. You're hungry now."

He opens the fridge, gets out the highest quality food there is and places it on her dish, sure to keep it all in the middle or she'll claim her bowl was empty. He added a splash of water too since the weather was starting to get hot.

He sucks down a water or two, demolishes a protein bar and then heads to the apartment gym.

A few hours roll by and without hearing from you yet his worry over your well being begins to cloud the forefront of his mind. He pauses his music, picks up his phone and talks out a voice memo.

A loud DING echoes from your room and around your skull as you rise with a throbbing headache.

"Fuck." You hiss to yourself grabbing at your head as you shakily rise to your feet. Yanking the handle of the faucet to drink from the stream before looking at yourself in the mirror.

"Ugh." You grunt ignoring your swollen face and eyes, yanking the mirror door open to snatch at the bottle of aspirin. Swallowing THREE extra strength pills before slamming the door shut and turning off the faucet. You make your way towards your bedroom, more than ready to sleep the rest of your day away. Grabbing at your phone to charge it you see the push notification of an Instagram message from Red Riot.

The fucking Red Riot.

Internally you scream before it bubbles up your throat and escapes. You fumble to unlock your phone before looking that it's a voice memo.

Mortified you realize you sent one too. And first at that.

"Fuck MEEE!" You plop onto the bed. Nervous this second voice memo is probably about how you're a weirdo or something as you relive the memory of asking him to be your plus one.

Hesitantly your thumb hovers over the play button before you find the strength to press the cool glass. A soft thunderous voice plays out.

"Good morning sleepy head. I haven't heard from you yet, I hope you're okay. Be sure to drink some water and eat something greasy. Trust me, late nights with Denki and Bakugou taught me something. Since the wedding is tomorrow I'll need a picture of your dress for the color and style so I can match you Sweet pea. Contact me soon so I can know where to pick you up."

Did he… did he just call you SWEET PEA? Your heart pounds in your chest before it registers he's asked for your dress color and lowkey asked for your address. This couldn't be real. It sounded like Kirishima, his voice familiar from interviews you've watched but it very well could be a prank. Defeated you hit the small microphone and reply.

Kirishima hears a sharp DING in his headphones over his music as he finishes his set. He wipes the sweat from his face on his shirt giving the few people in the gym a lovely view of his sweaty and thick torso. One woman trips on the treadmill but it goes unnoticed by Kirishima. He pauses his music and hits play on the little memo. Your beautiful yet groggy voice comes in through his ear buds causing Kirishima to bite his lip. It causes such a flutter of butterflies in his stomach he has to listen a second time to actually hear what you said. Although he understand, he cannot help but feel hurt by your reply.

"How do I know you're not just some pervy guy using Kirishima's Godly looks to prey on unsuspecting people."

Your phone chirps at you from the bed stand and you growl reaching for it. You had hoped your message would have been clear. An unspoken of you know they're a fucking creep taking advantage of their PR job.

"What can I do to prove it to you, Sweet Pea?"

You hate how that cute nickname sends your heart into a somersault and your stomach in delightful knots. Still your doubt pulls a harsh tut from your lips before you reply.

Kirishima doesn't need his phone to alert him that you've messaged him, he's been looking at his screen for far to long without having to restart his set. He listens to your voice as if it were music.

"Fine, you wanna prove it to me so bad. Take a picture of yourself shirtless with the word 'Sweet pea' you love so much and send it to me. No photoshop I know what my favorite hero looks like!"

For over an hour you don't hear back and you figure you showed that perv.

But now you can't sleep so you nurse a water, door dash a "greasy" breakfast all before cranking your shower as high as it can go. Your phone dings and you try to ignore it. You really do but as the saying goes curiosity killed the cat. Opening the message you see a classic guy mirror selfie. Kirishima is clear as day in the photo, his large hand pointing to his bare, hairy chest where sweat pea is scrawled in his adorable handwriting. He winks at the camera as his kissable lips wear a dangerous, almost cocky eyes travel down his bulk following his happy trail that dives under a pair of black shorts, the best part of the view getting cut off by the vanity. At first you try to rationalize that this was fake but damning evidence was sitting on the vanity. A fluffy white cat in a diamond and ruby encrusted collar sits on the counter giving her owner an odd look.

His cat Diamond that everyone knows he loves and adores. Slick begins to collect between your thighs and especially so after you listen to the voice memo that comes through shortly after. His normally friendly and soft voice comes out a bit dark, husky as he says in a playfully annoyed tone.

"Now send me a picture of that dress, Sweet Pea."

#kirishima x reader #kirishima eijirou x reader #bnha x reader

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catalists · 3 years ago

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Chrome’s shadowgast fic rec list, vol 1

Well, well, well, if it isn’t the consequences of my own obsession with wizards. I might make another one of these eventually if y’all keep churning out absolute bangers, but in the meantime, here is a list of my top Shadowgast fic recs.

One rule here: I’m limiting this to one fic per author--but many people on this list have a broader oeuvre you should definitely check out.

Your disclaimer: this is not a full literature review, but rather my personal favorites. Caveat lector!

* = fic is rated M or E

sleeping in the shadow of an other self by nonwal | @nonwal

Essek has a moment to consider that gravity-based trust exercises have never worked for him, and then the spell hits. He leans back into it, falls, falls.

(In which Essek is resurrected by the Mighty Nein and framed for innocence.)

Okay, listen. If you haven’t read it yet, you’re missing out. There’s a reason it’s at the top of the list. 30k of absolutely phenomenal characterization of not only Shadowgast but all the M9 and the coolest plot to ever plot. Not only a fantastic first read, but a phenomenal re-read as well.

multitudinous echoes awoke and died in the distance by mousecookie | @ariadne-mouse

Caleb takes a step forward and stumbles. As he catches himself he realizes something very odd. His hands are shadowy and translucent. His whole body is a shadow, in fact. If he holds his palm up to the sky, he can see the stars twinkling faintly through it.

Sharp talons of panic dig into his chest. He feels solid - if he grabs his own wrist, he has mass, but it is wrong. Everything is wrong. What is happening?

Prepare Fireball, commands a voice in his head.

The voice is familiar.

It takes him a moment to realize it’s familiar because it’s his.

An absolutely fabulous pre-relationship fic, written before the end of the show but you wouldn’t know it from how perfectly it nails the dynamic. Ariadne has written a ton of other fabulous Shadowgast fics and I encourage you to read them all--I’m just limiting this list to one fic per author to try and cover more ground.

Great Minds by bluebirdsongs

Essek uses more high-level dunamancy in battle, and Caleb tries to reverse-engineer it when he can't sleep. AKA What if we were both wizards and I cast Tether Essence on us to save your life?

This is a gorgeous fic, both for how it handles Caleb and Essek’s conversation--with profound deftness--and for the treatment of magic-as-math. A beautiful exploration of both dunamancy and Caleb and Essek.

to make a cradle of your palm* by renquise

Essek offers Caleb his spellbook, open to the page of a new spell.

As Caleb suspected, his adaptation of Essek's gravity spell was different in its conception, for all that the result was the same. The architecture of this similar spell speaks of a different thought process, a different set of basic assumptions. It is beautifully engineered, efficient in its use of components and energy: a simple spell requiring only a length of silk thread and yet capable of reaching over a great distance and causing great damage, if applied with intent to harm.

“If you would like, you can, ah. You may—" Essek gestures at his own throat, a quick, inelegant spread of fingers. "Test the application of pressure that the spell exerts."

It takes Caleb a moment to register what Essek is proposing. He is a delicate speaker, as always.

Oh man, this one just goes for the jugular (ha) in the most perfect way. The prose here, like everything renquise writes, is absolutely masterful, and the tension between Caleb and Essek is exquisitely rendered.

fist-fighting with fire just to get close to you by kaeda | @the-kaedageist

Caleb caught Essek’s eye across the dome, and Essek returned his small smile. “It would seem that it is trickier than expected to keep things on a…private channel,” Essek thought at him.

“Unfortunately,” Caleb replied.

“Unfortunately for all of us,” Fjord interjected.

(Spoilers for campaign 2, episode 138)

Kate has a fabulous gift for getting the Mighty Nein’s voices exactly right, and this fic is no exception. This takes the hive mind/telepathy of the eyes to its hilarious, heart-warming, logical conclusion and it’s an absolute joy to read.

(perhaps i may) elaborate by demonstration* by marsastronomica | @marsastronomica

After the second fight, they rest again. There’s still time left in the day, and they may as well push as far as they can. Essek and Caleb find time between action to talk. And negotiate.

This one is an absolute banger. The flirting! The tension! The incredible intense game of chicken that Essek and Caleb are playing this whole fic...it’s amazing, you can hear the dialogue in their voices, this is another one that I read and then had to tell everyone about. And now I’m telling you about. Go read it, it kicks ass.

I’ve been lost before (and I’m lost again, I guess)* by toneofjoy

Caleb has plans to take down his old coaches. Essek has secrets. They climb rocks, make new friends, explore professional boundaries, learn about consequences, and maybe even fall in love. It’s the Shadowgast climbing AU.

AUs can be a tough sell for me, but this one’s not. Half the joy in this is the fabulously vivid world that is built by the author who absolutely knows the ins and outs of competitive climbing and expertly shares it with the reader. The other half is the beautiful growing relationship between Caleb and Essek, which is a consistent joy to read. It’s still a WIP, but I promise it’s worth reading along.

the other things that make us* by saturday_sky | @saturdaysky

Essek returns, when he can, to the sanctuary of Caleb's home. The peace of it is a balm against the tedious peril of the road, which has more misery to share than Essek had ever thought. It's nice to have a place where he can lose himself: in a book, in arcane study, in the confusing allure of Caleb's smile.

It's nice. And the cats miss him, Caleb says.

[First chapter is a complete story. Second chapter will be a follow-up epilogue to it.]

This one hurts in the best possible way. I can’t highlight my favorite bits without giving it away, but the emotional beats of this absolutely beautiful post-canon fic are top-notch and the reveal of information is perfectly executed.

darkness to me is only water to the sea by treeviality

Essek knows how his story ends. There is a place in Rexxentrum where executions are carried out, wooden steps leading up to a wooden platform. There hangs a noose, swaying lightly in northern wind, while polished cobblestones shine bright in golden light.

There will be birds, Essek imagines, and when the lever is pulled and gravity takes hold of him one last time, he hopes they take flight.

This now-AU take on Essek being arrested is lyrical and beautiful and the author has a tremendous grasp of language and also how to rip your heart straight out of your chest and then gently replace it.

---

And, if you’re still looking for fic, I have a few, but one of my favorites is:

we never do go over (we always gotta go through) by Chrome

In the last fight with the Tombtakers, Essek Thelyss bends reality to keep them all alive and pays the price. As he copes with the aftereffects of his own magic and the party takes the long journey back to the surface, Essek and Caleb finally confront what they are to each other.

or,

Five times Essek woke up with level(s) of exhaustion and one time he didn't.

#shadowgast #essek thelyss #caleb widogast #critical role #cr fic #cr fic recs #fic recs #fic rec #cr

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aminiatureworld · 4 years ago

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A Little Rest II

Characters: Xiao, Zhongli, gn!reader

Word Count: 2,104

Warnings: Swearing

Premise: Sometimes life is just unbearably tiring. And a comforting shoulder can be the perfect substitute pillow. In which the reader falls asleep on their partner.

Author’s Note: Second part!!! I realize the first didn’t get a ton of traction, unfortunately, but hopefully, this’ll still be welcomed. I realize since most of these are basically pseudo fics, would you guys prefer it to be bullet-pointed or paragraphed? I’m just wondering if one format is easier or more pleasant to read than the other.

Also, adepti’s rules and personal needs are kinda nebulous to me so I sort of made them up myself. Watches also weren’t a thing until the 1800s, and specifically didn’t really become a thing in China until the mid-20th century. But this is fantasy so I do what I want.

Xiao

You loved Xiao more than you could say. Every little moment spent with him made your heart flutter, every habit of his that you’d noticed, every little way he revealed his soul to you.

It seemed so improbable to you sometimes, than an adeptus, someone so very disconnected from the world of humans, should choose to love you. Although Xiao would never let you think you were any lesser than him, would never let his nature put you down, you were still somewhat in awe of the whole setup, and little reminders of his adepti status often brought you back to when you two had first begun to fall in love, when Xiao had explained that he didn’t quite understand the human way of life.

And one of those things that he didn’t understand appeared to be the concept of sleep itself.

It wasn’t that Xiao didn’t know what sleep was. Nor was he unable to sleep, he once told you. Theoretically he could sit down and take a nap much like any normal human. It was more that he didn’t need to sleep, and didn’t see the need to do something that took up so much time and left one so vulnerable.

Not that he didn’t pay attention to your needs; he wasn’t about to disrupt your sleep schedule on purpose, in fact you often joked that Xiao cared more about your rest than you did. It was only that, after spending so many years simply not thinking about things like sleep, it became hard for him to suddenly remember that he had a partner who needed said sleep every day. And a day was oh so short in Xiao’s mind.

It was a beautiful evening at the Wangshu Inn. The air was warm without being stifling and a breeze blew, light and cool. You were on the roof with Xiao, the place that had become your normal meeting spot. For as much as Xiao adored you with every fiber of his soul, he was still an adeptus, and his comfort level around most humans was that of an anxious cat – always ready to bolt.

Besides, the roof of the Inn was such a lovely place to relax. You gazed at Xiao’s profile as he looked up at the stars, noticing the way that the wind ruffled his hair slightly, the way his posture seemed so relaxed, so comfortable. One of his hands was clasping yours, fingers linked together, his palm nice and warm; the other pointed out constellations to you, each bearing a story, some which had long been forgotten by the residents of Liyue.

It wasn’t often that Xiao was so talkative, so open. Although he still barely mentioned his past – keeping that part of himself shut away with only the occasional crack through which you might learn of his sorrows – he’d become much more willing to disclose his everyday thoughts to you, as well as share stories that he knew. The latter was something you always loved to listen to, not just because the stories he told were always interesting and so full of life, but also because they gave you the sense of knowing him better, something that always made you happy.

Unfortunately, tonight was one night where, though you were more than happy to listen to Xiao talk about the stars, you were kind of dying of fatigue. A headache slipped in and out of your consciousness, and you found it more and more difficult to concentrate on Xiao’s words, finding they were all melting together into some semi-coherent monologue.

Your fatigue must’ve been very apparent, for when Xiao glanced over at you his whole demeanor changed; the carefree look on his face was gone, replaced with one of slight confusion and definitive worry. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine!” You shook your head. “Just a bit tired, that’s all.”

“Then you should rest.” Xiao squeezed your hand slightly before moving to stand up. However, as tired as you were, you cared more about spending time with him, and weren’t about to cut said time short.

“Wait!” You exclaimed, causing Xiao to pause, looking at you in a puzzled way. You smiled, slightly sheepish, but pressed forward. “I’ll be fine. If you don’t mind though, may I, uh, may I lay my head on your shoulder.” You gazed up at him, but inside you were struck with the urge to suddenly look away. Xiao was still a bit reticent with affection, not that it bothered you. He’d told you that he was simply unused to it, not averse to it. You weren’t about to pressure him into anything though, no matter the cause, and thus you waited for his response, hoping your expression conveyed that it’d be perfectly fine if he declined.

Your worries proved to be without ground however, for Xiao’s expression grew only fonder. Lying back down he gestured towards you. You gladly scooted closer to him, laying your head on his shoulder, hand once more in his. “You were saying about the boar constellation.” You murmured.

Xiao smiled, kissing the top of your head, before once more going on speaking about the stars. You smiled too, allowing his stories to carry you off to sleep, your head already swirling with half formed dreams about creatures who walked among the stars.

Xiao listened to your breathing even out, still talking a little after it seemed you’d dozed off, making sure that the sudden stop of his voice didn’t wake you up.

Gazing down at your peaceful face he pondered for a moment how much his life had changed so quickly. Even a month ago the idea that he would become friends with a human seemed impossible, much less that he would fall in love with one.

When he’d first met you it was as if something that had been frozen inside him for a long time began to thaw. He was terrified at first, terrified of you, terrified of himself, terrified of the unknown that loomed before him like a vast chasm. It had taken every ounce of courage to hold your hand at first, and every ounce of courage for every step after that.

But he would do it again if he had to, for being with you was the best part of his long, often cruel life. And he would do anything to protect you, anything to make sure you were comfortable and happy and healthy.

“Goodnight.” He spoke softly. Up above the stars kept silent vigil along with him. Tomorrow would be a bright new day, but for now he was simply going to enjoy the moment he’d been given with you.

Zhongli

For someone who’d lived thousands of years, you’d think Zhongli would remember that tea had to be decaffeinated sometimes.

Not that you could really blame him for forgetting. After all it’s not like he needed to pay attention to whether or not his tea was caffeinated. To one of the Seven sleep was something more akin to a perk than a necessity. Sure, it was nice to sleep. But it’s not like Zhongli was going to feel regret if he accidentally downed five cups of tea right before midnight and spent the rest of night starting at the ceiling, wondering where he went wrong.

Unfortunately, you were definitively not a god, and did, in fact, need sleep. So, when you found yourself staring out the window at 5 am, having long come to the conclusion that sleep was just not going to happen, the emotion going through your mind was something more akin to: “Oh. Fuck.”

This turned into an “Oh you’ve got to be fucking kidding me” when you saw the list of your daily commissions. Yeah, someone had to go to Jueyun Karst and Qingyun Peak to collect Cor Lapis, and considering your relationship with Zhongli and the adepti it should’ve been unsurprising that you were going to be the one to do it. But your sleep addled brain was having a difficult time processing things logically, and all you saw when you looked at the list Katheryne gave you was the fact that today was going to hurt.

Your prediction turned out to be only too true. No adepti came to ask why you were mining outside their front doors – honestly what would you even respond to something like that – but the amount of treasure hunters that ran into you began to feel less like a likely coincidence, considering the location, and more like a targeted attack. Thankfully there was nothing you couldn’t handle, but by the end of your expedition you were more than ready to go home and take a nap.

Hurrying through the rest of your day, barely responding to the people you interacted with, by the time you’d finally finished up with your adventuring duties you felt like the most irritated person on the planet.

Arriving home, throwing your pack haphazardly onto the floor you almost tripped and fell flat on your face in your hurry to get to the bedroom. Not bothering to take off your adventuring gear you threw yourself onto the bed and quickly found yourself lost in long overdue sleep.

Zhongli glanced at his watch, frowning as he saw the lateness of the hour. The sun was already beginning to set, and though he’d walked as fast as possible, he still found himself feeling vaguely guilty about being so late. You two hadn’t spoken much in the morning, you’d seemed a bit restless and hurried out right after breakfast, so Zhongli was anxious to spend as much time with you after work as possible.

“Darling?” He called out, walking into the home you two shared. He glanced around uncertainly, surprised that you hadn’t greeted him at the door. The sight of your pack sprawled about the hallway only made him more confused, and vaguely alarmed, and he hurried down the hall, checking each room to see if you were there.

His worry immediately faded upon seeing you, curled up above the covers, evidently fast asleep. Unsure as to whether or not to wake you up he instead headed towards the kitchen, thinking you might like something when you got up.

You woke up in the dark, something that surprised you. You’d been out for a long time. Seeing that the door had been opened you shuffled down the hall, still a bit groggy from the extended nap you’d just taken.

Zhongli smiled as you entered the kitchen. “Did you have a good nap my darling?” He asked, kissing you on the forehead. You nodded sleepily, propping yourself up by your elbows on the counter. Zhongli chuckled. “Here, something to warm you up.”

Yours eyes widened as the cup of tea was placed in front of you. For a moment there was silence, then you glanced back at him.

“Zhongli?”

“Yes?”

“Uhm, is this tea, well, does it by any chance have caffeine in it?”

The look on Zhongli’s face was enough to make you burst into giggles. Perplexion melted into realization, which evidently caused some sort of embarrassment, for the former god blushed a bright shade of red before bringing his hand to cover his mouth.

“Ah, I see. That’s why you were so tired this morning.”

“It’s alright.” You finally replied, the initial fit of giggles having passed. “I know that you don’t have to think about these sorts of things normally. Only me making the same mistake two times in a row would be a bit hilarious, wouldn’t you think” You placed a kiss on Zhongli’s cheek, finally causing him to calm down a bit.

“I suppose you’re right. I’m sorry. Next time I promise to pay more attention.”

“Thank you.” You smiled, fatigue coming back after the initial burst of energy. Leaning into Zhongli’s neck you sighed slightly.

“Still tired?” Zhongli asked, voice soft and caring.

“Yeah, a bit.” You admitted. Zhongli nodded, before scooping you up.

Carrying you over to the couch you both settled in a bit. Zhongli began humming a sort of lullaby, and you smiled despite yourself. “You’re too good for me.” You mumbled.

“Nonsense.” Came Zhongli’s reply, just as full of love and affection. “You’re too good for me. And I won’t hear otherwise.”

“If you say so.” You replied, too tired to really fire back, already drifting off.

“I do. It’s only the truth.” And with that he began to hum again. As you fell asleep one last thought lingered in your mind.

If such contentment comes from staying up too late, then I’d be glad to do it again.

#I was today years old when I realize Xiao's VN is Soma from Food Wars #I can never unhear it #That show is my guilty pleasure #anyways... yeah #I hope people like this #xiao #zhongli #xiao x reader #zhongli x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact fanfiction #scenarios #my writing

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grittyreadsfic · 4 years ago

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hello my friends, one singular person asked for this weeks ago so i’m here with my most unhinged rec list yet: tk and nolan.

now, this one was hard to reign in, so i really didn’t. this pairing had maybe 230 fics in the tag when i first started reading hockey fic, and it’s now over 900, and i’ve read far too many of them, and that makes it so hard to parse it down. so i just...didn't!

so with that said, please enjoy so you want to get into tknp: a beginners guide to a classic case of idiots to lovers

i told myself that i couldn’t rec an author’s entire body of work but then i remembered this is my blog and i do what i want, so i did some consolidating. here’s a list of the quintessential authors for this pairing, you can start at any of their profiles and pick any of their fics at random, and it’ll be one of the best ones for the pairing, hands down.

therainbowsedge: i’d start with the summer camp fic, or the sex toys one, as both beautifully capture the true idiots to lovers nature of this pairing, but just top tier writing all around

manybumblebees: the wedding fic is so tender and port stanley is a classic, but literally pick any single fic and you’ll have a perfect tknp fic. i’m not kidding

jamesvanriemsdick: their tknp fics in their series are some of the hidden gems of this pairing (the tk heartbeat fic makes me LOSE it) but the delaware fic or the seattle fic…..there’s really something for every mood

catchascatchcan: start with era of gods because i could write literal essays on how it’s some of the best fantasy worldbuilding i’ve ever read, but then just read everything else on their account, including non tknp fics. you won’t regret it

hackysack: ao3 user hackysack has written one of two timeloop fics that i absolutely adore, and i thought about just calling that one out in particular, but all of their work deserves the attention

canary: nothing to prove was the first tknp fic i ever read and i was immediately hooked. all of their fics are a good starting place for the pairing, and just really give you a feeling for the pairing

and now, for the fic recs!

to be, despite it all by smudgedfreckles

summary: or, nolan patrick’s gender thesis, by travis konecny.

why i love it: there’s not a lot ofo nonbinary characters in media, even in fic, but this fic’s treatment of nolan and their path to figuring out their gender just feels so real and made me feel so seen. tk’s characterization is also just top notch, and it’s just a super sweet story about two people who love each other

last ones standing by makeit_takeit

summary: If you’re committed to finding your future spouse, reads the last line of the ad, and are ready to look at yourself and your love life in a whole new way, apply now.

At the bottom of the ad there’s a link, and Travis finds his finger hovering over the screen, lip still caught between his teeth.

“I mean,” he says very reasonably, speaking out loud to his empty apartment like some sort of possibly-crazy person, “just applying doesn’t mean anything. Maybe I just fill it out, and see what happens. It’s not like I’m really gonna get picked to be on TV, come on.”

He snorts out loud, just to show his apartment he hasn’t lost his grip on reality or anything; he fully understands how ludicrous that would be.

Then he clicks the link anyway, because yolo or whatever.

why i love it: what part of a married at first sight fic doesn’t make you want to immediately dive right in? the concept is fun, the execution is absolutely flawless, and it captures their dynamic so well while letting it develop naturally

motivation by connectknee

summary: Kevin knows when to back off, the article said. He knows just when to shut up and leave Patty alone, something Travis has never known how to do.

why i love it: the thing i love about this pairing is that tk is loud and in your face, and nolan’s more reserved, a little quieter, a little harder to read. this fic does a really great job of exploring how tk could feel like maybe he’s just a bit too much and is one of my favorites in terms of miscommunication

a tenderness grows by rusesdeguerre

summary: Nolan wouldn’t say that landing a job as the Philadelphia Flyers’ psychotic and probably clinically insane mascot was a childhood dream of his. Maybe tangentially: playing pond hockey in –30°C weather and pretending to be Sidney Crosby is practically a rite of passage when you grow up in Manitoba. That, and experiencing the distinct displeasure that is thousands of mosquitoes sucking your blood out when your father drags you on a father-son camping trip into the backwoods of the northern Canadian Prairies.

why i love it: this was the first fic i recced on this blog, and i stand by that decision. a fic where nolan is not only not a hockey player, but is in fact the person in the gritty suit? absolutely perfect, and so charming from start to finish

meet me at my window by springsteen

summary: Travis has lived in Philadelphia for a few years now, long enough to know there isn’t a major city in America where superheroes don’t destroy an entire city block trying to save humanity or whatever. He can deal with all the super-shit, but Travis did not sign up for getting woken up from a deep sleep because some fucker’s trying to break in through his window.

(5 times the super-villain known as "The Cat" breaks into Travis's apartment, plus 1 time Travis invites him in.)

why i love it: there’s a lot of things to love here, but the concept is just absolutely one of my all time favorite aus ever. it’s fun and charming and the perfect glimpse into a world where heroes and villains exist, and what it’s like just to be a run of the mill kind of guy existing in it. tk and nolan’s back and forth in this make it so engaging, and it’s such a top tier fic

body’s in trouble by cloudsandpassingevents

summary: “Oh, sorry,” someone says. “Didn’t know anyone else was here.”

Nolan freezes, then turns around very slowly. When he looks up, Nicklas fucking Backstrom is standing behind him in a hoodie and baggy sweats, holding the biggest bag of Swedish Fish Nolan’s ever seen in his life in one hand.

“Uh,” Nolan says around the pop tart between his teeth. “Yeah.”

What the fuck, his brain helpfully supplies.

why i love it: from nolan’s inner voice, to the way the author explores all the dynamics within the team, to the way they write the unexpected but actually, it kind of makes sense friendship between nolan and backstrom, is just absolutely fantastic. there’s a lot of moments that circle back and build on each other in a way that really just makes it super compelling

rhizomatic foundations by lighthousetowers

summary: Twenty days after he moves in with Kevin Hayes, twenty days – three months, five months, depending on how you look at it – after not talking to TK, TK shows up at the front door with a plant the size of a basketball in his hands.

TK grins. "Patty, meet Reginald." He lifts up the plant. "Reggie, meet Patty. He's going to be your new - caretaker."

"What the fuck," says Nolan, not moving a single muscle.

Or: That Nolan can hear the plant talk might as well just happen.

why i love it: this is probably my favorite magical realism fic just about ever. it’s fun and charming and a little weird, but in the best possible way. there’s such a wonderful narrative in it, and lighthousetowers always has such beautiful writing, and it really shines in this one. the dialogue and nolan’s characterization are also part of what set it apart for me as one of the best tknp fics

in the dark of any town by mengetpegged

summary: If the voice has an accent at all, it’s a flat prairie Canadian, with none of G’s French-Canadian softness at the edges. But mostly, the accent is just ‘pissed off,’ which TK believes is a default setting for ghosts.

“Who are you?” TK asks, and he doesn’t like how strained his voice sounds, doesn’t like the tinge of anxiety tinting the rise of his question. He tries to regulate his breaths—in through his nose, hold, out through his mouth—but it feels like he’s not getting enough oxygen, which makes him panic even more.

“Someone with a fucking migraine, dickhead,” the voice says. “So keep the lights off and shut the hell up.”

(or: Nolan Patrick, Hotel X Ghost)

why i love it: i’m usually not super into ghost fics, both the spooky kind and the nonspooky kind, but this one is a rare exception. it’s charming and fun and tender and it’s got some of, in my opinion, the best characterization of tk and nolan in any fic. the way the author writes their dynamic and their dialogue is just unmatched

lets_make_this_moment_a_crime.mp3 by honeydripping

summary: Travis meets Nolan at a Midtown show in 2002 when he punches Nolan in the face. He can’t help it, “Like A Movie” just goes off.

But he does feel guilty about it.

TK and Patty work at a bakery together. They go to punk shows to pass the time.

why i love it: idk if anyone asked for an early 2000s emo/punk/alt au but wow! i sure am glad it exists! really the vibes of this fic, as silly as that sounds, are absolutely unmatched. i love the structure with the music, the development of their relationship, and just everything about how the author wrote the setting (there’s this whole thing with tattoos in it that makes me feel absolutely insane)

you’re ripped at every edge by you’re a masterpiece by conformityissuicide

summary: “Ugh, look, this yoga teacher has it out for me, man. And I can’t go back there without at least having some of the basics down. I’ve got to win this battle.”

“Yoga isn’t really something you win at,” Hartsy starts.

Travis cuts him off, “You can win at anything if you try hard enough.”

+++

OR that time Nolan's a grumpy yoga teacher and Travis realizes he wants to bone him and prove him wrong about Travis' non-existent yoga abilities.

why i love it: listen, if you want tknp, at least one of them has to be an idiot, and this tk absolutely captures the obliviousness i love to see in him in fic. it’s such a great characterization of them both and such a great concept (and even better execution)

you form a terror pack (and i’m aware of that) by dalmatienne

summary: “Can I help you?” TK snarks, both eyebrows hiked up in a way that has earned her many elbow checks to the ribs.

The chick looks down her nose, long thick eyelashes fluttering. Red-bitten lips part to blow a florid pink bubble and TK can smell the chemical sweetness when it pops.

“Yeah,” she says in this monotonous voice that seems almost at odds with her bubble gum and neon skates. She jams her stopper into TK’s thigh again, literally inches away from where it’d really hurt. “Tie ‘em.”

why i love it: to be honest, i generally don’t read rule 63 within hrpf, but this one is just absolutely knocks it out of the park. the concept (i fuckin’ love roller derby), the characterization of nolan, the pacing, the rituals, the tone of the entire fic, it’s just all around a perfect read from start to finish

thrills and grills by bitter_leaf

summary: Travis can’t even begin to wonder what he did in a previous life to incur the wrath of this fucking cook. Travis thinks he’s a nice person, doesn’t conduct himself in any way that could be considered particularly dickish, and unless this guy has some sort of issue with hockey bros or people from the boonies, he’s not sure how he started shit without even knowing.

Patty has a vendetta. Travis just wants to eat his eggs in peace.

why i love it: honestly this is the enemies to lovers fic i’ve been waiting for. i remember seeing the reddit post when it first went viral and thinking it would make such a great fic premise, so stumbling across this one was just so wonderful. super engaging and fun and so hilarious to read!

nothing but room for you by fightingfuries

summary: When his agent tells him he’s going to be traded to the Devils, Nolan isn't sure how he feels about it. Might be easier if he was going somewhere farther away, like California or fucking Florida. Somewhere sun-soaked and foreign. Someplace so different from Philadelphia that he can forget he ever played for the Flyers, forget everything that happened there.

Or Nolan fucks up, gets traded, gets his shit together and falls in love. Not necessarily in that order.

why i love it: i cannot stress to you how much i love trade fics, and this one is one of my absolute favorites. the trade to the devils-so close to philly, still, but there’s more to distance than physical miles-was such an excellent choice and the split timeline adds so much to the narrative, and the emotions are real and messy and complicated in the best way

a couple of runaways (i’m glad you stayed) by overturnedgoal

summary: The person in the video he’s watching is super annoying. Some obnoxious holier than thou granola type who keeps talking about their environmental impact as if they aren’t driving a gas guzzler around, but the basic idea of living in a van, driving around wherever, camping all the time, just going hiking and swimming and seeing the whole country? It sounds pretty dope, honestly.

why i love it: i like to watch tours and conversions of vans/buses into tiny homes as a self soothing method, and this fic has the same impact that watching those do. it’s such a fun concept, and it’s so fuckin’ soft, and the dialouge between tk and nolan is just *chef’s kiss*

all candor and style in the crook of your smile by p3trichor

summary: It’s a photo of Nolan on his knees with someones’ fingers in his mouth, lips slick with spit. Travis flicks by it almost too fast and he’s only got seconds to decide if he wants to screenshot it, if he wants to just give up the ghost right then and there. Except Travis’s phone freezes momentarily and then the group refreshes, sidcros87, Bert59 and 14 others took a screenshot!

It’s gone before Travis even has time to process it and he already wasted his replay of the day on a stupid video of a stupid fish that Hayes caught.

Can you send me that screenshot Travis texts Bertuzzi before he can overthink it, his dick already stirring in his sweats. Tuzzi sends back the cry-laughing emoji and then the screenshot before Travis can be too annoyed at him.

Or, Nolan is being weird about Travis's break-up and TK is maybe not straight.

why i love it: i genuinely don’t think i have words for the amount i love this fic. it took me forever to actually read, but it’s absolutely one of my favorite fics, and it’s an absolutely riot to read. carter’s meddling and the presence of tyler bertuzzi both make it extra fun, in my humble opinion

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slater-later · 4 years ago

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I Want to Watch You Grow

Brian Kelly x Trans Masc Reader

Read it here on AO3 if you would like!

- This is a Brian Kelly x Trans Man reader fan fic. This conronicles your long term relationship with Brian and your development with yourself. Your body, and transition as a transman.

- I hope everyone enjoys this. Finds space within themselves and their relationship with the world. It’s okay to be trans, being trans is beautiful. it’s a difficult, glorious journey that is far more of a beginning then an end. Living happy life, being proud of yourself and your body.

- The fic is long, about 12 pages. So please, soak it in, and I wish you the happiest day!

The two of you had been dating for some time. You had met at a small high school party. A good group of friends coming together around a Summer bonfire, slipping your feet out from the well worn sandals and wiggling them infront of a fire. The soles of your feet toasted, turning them around to be goldened on both sides. You held a long metal skewer with two plump marshmallows on the end, rotating it around as you warmed it to a golden ball of glory.

It was sweet, being able to spend time with old friends and make some new. Your friend Ronnie had invited the skater kids from school to join you. He had bonded with them over their mutual love for rock and rap music. It made sense, they both loved Public Enemy. Blasting ‘We Got the Power’ out of their car radios whenever they had a chance.

You enjoyed it, they threw out some good rhymes and it was a battle cry for your youth. You generation. You couldn’t help but bob your head to the music and belt along.

It was towards the end of the night when you two met. Brian had showed up late, hair slicked with a heavy line of sweat. A shirt quickly shoved into his pants, trying to clean up for his group of friends after a long day of skating.

He had skipped out of work that day- well, really, the restaurant was slow so there wasn’t much need for two busboys. He had spent the rest of his afternoon and late into the stary night, skating at the skatepark. The street lights clicked on and it had made it hard for him to see the clear edges of the ramps. It was time to turn in and get a bite to eat. Putting aside the new trick he caught from someone else. Trying to nail it.

If he knew it could be done, then he could. He just needed enough time and perseverance to figure it out.

With skating, the possibilities were endless. It was his place to let go of life’s worries and focus on something where had complete control. The complete right to be, what and who he is, with no to tell him otherwise. Skating was like a lifeblood for him, his way of life.

His boundless universe.

He came jogging in, skateboard in hand as he approached the group huddled around the warm fire.

The trees swayed, creaking under the age and weight of their own majesty with a long gust of wind. It was dark, the hum of Summer turning to a deep pitch of haze. Black rolling in, only to be illuminated by the glaze of starfull and a half crescent moon. The forest was thick, lulled by the hum of heated crickets and hushed by the cool breeze of night. Smoke pooling from the warm fire, whisping and licking up the sky with powerful might. Your toes curled, seeking a gentle relief from its delightful burning flame.

They were roasted and baked. You tucked them into the ground, shifting your heals to push back the brush and find a damp, cool, interior.

Brian waved, throwing an arm up to welcome everyone. A boy buzzed in the background, rolling a hit out of a cheaply made bong. Coughing as he blew out his lungs. Stoned till’ the cows come home.

“Hey guys! Sorry I’m late, it uh, took me a while to find you guys,” He smiled, strolling on into the circle and making his way over to Yabbo. Giving him a high five and saying hello to Buddy.

You popped your marshmallow onto a graham cracker and some chocolate. You munched on your treat, washing it down with a sip of beer.

You watched Brian that night, catching his eyes as he chatted with Buddy over some trick he had been captivated by. Transfixed on trying to nail, to, gleam the cube.

He noticed, his shit stain smirk would appear even in mid sentence. Hands flailing out, gesturing and expressing his exasperation on some wild tangent he was on about skating. About life. About love. It was amusing to watch him, loud and audacious as he was. He could even make Buddy loud, who was normally a quiet and reserved guy. Get him chuckling about some silly joke he made, and pairing it with an audacious face. Hands whipped out, a cross between a dragon and a gorilla.

You had finished off your second beer, musing with a friend about the stars as you gazed. Heads turned up, pondering the wide expanse of space. Its’ glorious bounds, its beauty, its’ wonder.

It put things in perspective for you. Not in a scary way, but in a comforting one. That sometimes, our emotions can feel massive. And they can be! But they also fall away, soothe and ease, as we realize, this shall pass. As all things. Even life. And so, what we must work towards is enjoying it. Like moments like these- feet kicked up on a stump, back eased into a lawn chair with a good beer in hand, spending time with friends. The summer breeze cooling your warm skin, still tanned and glowing from a long day spent outside. Walking, running, and spending time with those that mattered to you. You can’t steal back time, but instead, enjoy it.

Brian tapped Buddy’s shoulder, gesturing for him to shift over as he stood up. Slicking to the outside of the circle, making his way over.

He stopped at the bag of mellows, nabbing two and popping one in his mouth. Munching on its sugary goodness as he finished the trip. Sliding down and popping on the ground, criss-cross-apple-sauce style.

You picked your chin up from the stars, turning your head towards him, “Hey.”

“Hey,” He smiled tiredly, softly. It had grown late and the group had died down, calming and chatting amongst themselves. “So, I uh, don’t think I caught your name,” He mused, chuckling with an anxious delight. He had caught your fancy and talking to attractive people always made his insides flutter.

“It’s Y/N, what’s yours?” You smiled, letting out a tiny yawn, hand hovering over your mouth.

And on command, it was his turn. “Briannn.” He said, pushing through his wide open mouth, eyes turning to closed slits. Watering.

“Jesus, I’m beat,” He muttered, whipping his eyes.

“You too?” You couldn’t stop, the two of you speaking through widely stretched mouths, yawning and releasing the tired souls of your body out into the air. Like ghosts being exercised.

“Yeah!” He squeaked, putting his hand over his mouth. This time his mouth reaching out farther. As if a shark could unhinge its massive jaw.

Slowly, both of yours bodies cooled down. Chatted about the quiet, peaceful sounds of the forest. How the night made your feel alive, at ease within your own body. It was easy talking with such a nice man, cracking soft jokes and poking fun at the world. The politicians, the fat cats, and parents. Some stupid shit a drunk girl did at school, how the one guy on the football team fucked the head swimmer and stirred drama in the theatre group. He had been dating Jared, but it all fell for shit when he saw Sam in those swim trunks.

You both agreed, he looked mighty fine in the spandex speedo. And Tom did too, especially when he found out how kind he was.

“So who do you think is the biggest class clown? Don or Vinny?” You mused, shifting your weight in your seat. Turning towards him.

“Ahhh, I’m not so sure. Vinny is my man, but I really like Tabitha-”

“That bitch?” You shot, clicking your tongue. “She fucking stole $20 out of my backpack, fuck her!”

His eyebrows knitted, looking disappointed. “Yeahhh, she ain’t very nice. I disagree with you there,” He looked at the blaze, shaking his head. “But it’s not a ‘frienship’ competition. I give her props pouring that bottle of stinky slick on that jerk in Ceramics. That one that makes all those gross racist comments in school.” Fuck him for his piece of shit mind. There was no reason to be like that.

“-Ugh!” Your eyes rolled, shaking your head, “I know, I fucking hate him. He’s a piece of shit,” Internally you groaned, thinking of his disgusting face.

“For that, I respect her. The fool won’t change his mind and he needs to learn that he can’t do shit like that. It’s not like he’ll listen, I’ve tried,” He popped a mellow into his mouth, chewing. “She got 3 days of suspension for that. It was pretty ballsy,” Shitting on racist was both funny and satisfying.

“What-? Why did she get that-?”

He shrugged, looking amazed, “I don’t know. It’s fucked up, that’s school for ya. It’s not right.”

You shook your head disgusted. If only they would understand, listen. “Ok, so, who has your favorite comedy?

“-Sam,” He smiled, poking a branch into the fire.

You watched him stir up the flame, picking at a log and turning it over.

“Same, he’s really nice. He’s quiet but he has a smart tongue on him,” Slowly the fire grew. Emboldened by the new life, “Tom’s really lucky.”

Brian shot you a look, teeth flashing in a grin, “Cuz Jared’s so hot?”

You shot up in your seat, pushing yourself closer to him- “Okay though, right?!” Brian burst out laughing, head thrown back as he boomed.

You waved your hands up into the air, desperately. “He has those pecs! Those thick arms! I just wanna be hugged by him!” He was a big tall teddy bear! A muscular one too! Who doesn’t love a big teddy bear?!

“I know, I know!” He slapped his knee, face red and warm, and it wasn’t from the booze. “He’s cute! He’s really cute!” He laughed, smiling through his big open mouth.

The two of you talked for the rest of the night, making another round of smores and sipping on the last of your cold beer. It was easy, talking to him. You found a kind of warm comfort and acceptance by such a free soul. By someone who really just wanted to be seen and heard, and loved for who he was.

*****

That night would bloom into many others. A few months you spent together, as friends, and the others, as lovers. You slowly got to know each other over time progressed. Eventually, love bloomed. Infatuation took to desire, day dreaming about the next time you’d see him. Hand propping your chin, staring off into a whiteboard filled with math equations as the teacher droned on. The last week of school was a buzzkill, bittersweet, and painfully long.

You wanted it to end. For it to be Summer, to be scott-free and without responsibilities. But that also brought changes and your second stage of life was on the horizon.

****

The time came and both of you decided to take a year off from college. Work and save up some money. Spend time together as much you can.

You planned on going away to school a few hours away. Brian hadn’t quite decided, but it looked to be the same.

Both of you would attend the same school and it would work out well. Eventually, you both got through the next four years with your brains intact for the better. He majored in music production with a minor in entrepreneurship. He wanted to do something in music, start his own band and maybe build his own label. You majored in _____ and loved it. And your relationship had lasted, strengthened. Finding a quiet peace and home in one another. A thing you quietly wished for in your heart and didn’t know you needed until you found it.

The freedom to be yourself with another. One who would love and accept you, regardless of the circumstances and the changes.

But it didn’t always make it easy. You had been having feelings about your body. Ones that you didn’t quite like and found increasingly frustrating to have. To not have the words, the names, to understand and express how you felt.

You already knew you weren’t straight. That had long been established to yourself and to Brian’s knowledge. He didn’t care- well, that wasn’t quite the right way to put it. He was supportive of your queerness and actually encouraged it. You both were fluid as a snake- bodies and gender thrown right out of the door. What mattered was the person, the attraction, and the two of you- had a lot of that for one another.

He also wasn’t one to put up many questions about the way you dressed. Switching out fem for? Masculine? He was game. He liked your style, even sowed on some patches on your jacket when he asked. Though as time wore on, catching the way you shield away from your chest… Your feelings about your body… He noticed.

“Hey babe?” He slid into the frame of the doorway, hand grasping the side of the wood as he leaned in. Watching you do your hair, clothed, and fixing your hair.

“Yeah? What’s up?” You looked at him through the mirror, running a comb through your head. “Is my coffee ready?”

“Yeah, it’s on the kitchen table. With your toast,” He walked in, looking quiet. Tentative. “Can I talk to you about something?”

You turned, “Yeahhhh…” Your voice fluttered, knowing that face he makes. It made you uneasy. “What do you wanna talk about?”

“Are you… alright? You’ve been distant lately, like somethings on your mind,” He paused, looking down. Guilty, “Did I do something wrong? Are we alright?” He leaned his back against the wall, thumbs hooked into his jean pockets. Glancing up at you.

You set down the brush, turning, “Yeah,” You coed softly. Tenderly to the sweet man, “We’re okay, I’m just going through some stuff,” It was easier to put that into words. You needed time to figure things out, to share how you felt. You didn’t even have them for yourself, at least not clearly.

You hoped time would reveal itself, help your understand and work through what you were feeling.

And you didn’t know how it would change you. Or, for the matter, Brian. Your relationship with him.

He gestured to you, beat, “Do you.. Wanna talk about it?”

It fell on silence, unsure.

“Yes… but not now. I need some time,” You stepped, drawing his eyes.

“Like… how long?” It was bugging him, an itch he can’t scratch. A problem he saw, a frustration he can’t touch.

It was yours, and one that effected him. He wanted you happy and content.

To ease your pain.

“I’m not sure,” You slipped a hand into his and locked fingers together. Drawing his hand up and lined your hips with his. Brian’s other slip around your waist, pulling you close. “You’re going to have to wait, to trust me until I’m ready to talk about it. But I do love you- and it’s not because of you,” You pressed your lips to his, slowly lifting them away. “Or something you’ve done. We’re okay.”

“Alright, I just-” He looked into your eyes, vulnerable. “I want you to be happy, no matter what. Whatever it is.”

“And I thank you for that, I really do. I appreciate it,” Another press, lips locked, tongues twisting for a moment.

“Oh? Is someone?”

You laughed, caught red-handed, “Yeah, a bit.” You mused.

****

And for a while, it was left like that. You ordered yourself a proper binder and he was properly happy for you, seeing you excited to go and slip it on as soon as it came in the mail. You checked yourself out in the mirror, beaming as you found a sense of newfound confidence and comfort in your appearance. Your body.

He liked the way you smelled after you changed deodorants. You smelled rich and musky, one that you both adored. For him, it was intoxicating. Even picked up your armpit in bed as you yelped, his head buried in your pit to get a good whiff of your scent. Both of you sent laughing and shouting and you play fought in bed, beating back the monster you so endearingly loved.

“Fucking hell Brian!! Give me my arm back!”

“No! Never!” He bellowed, hand tightening around your wrist, pinning it against the wall as your feet kicked against him. He loved it, making you mad and crazy at the same time.

Tickling was your enemy! One that he used and abused, to get you laughing and squirming as he tied his body around yes. Pressing kisses to your cheek like a woodpecker.

****

Eventually, you found answers. The internet helped and a good stack of books about gender. It worked to ease your feelings about your body and the amount of envy you had for the masculine. It was difficult at first, being able to sort through attraction and gender envy at the same time. Slowly, you found answers. A confirmation of your feelings and way of life. The amount of euphoria you received when the simple stranger called you ‘man’ or ‘sir’ felt glorious. Elating and at home with yourself in a way that felt right. A homecoming.

You started to approach the subject with Brian. The two of you were friends with trans people, but it still felt fresh. Weird, and confusing to go through yourself. Being trans still didn’t give you cut and dry answers, it was a journey. A grey area because, even through they had gone through that journey, it was still personal. You had to find answers for yourself and the world is a weird, wild place.

But, it didn’t mean you were something else. Or strange for that matter- you were you, and that’s what mattered. You were exploring.

You two had been laying in bed. A quiet Saturday day spent outside, running errands and going to the farmers market to buy fresh produce and bread. It was lovely and peaceful. You guys had turned into bed early, curled under a soft comforter as you sprawled out in bed. The sun had set.

“Hey,” You whispered, dusting a piece of long hair out of his face. He was turned towards you, a fit of blankets wrapped around him as his body cupped towards yours.

“Hey,” He yawned, eyes fluttering in sleepiness.

You dusted a finger along his jaw, his chest slowly rising and falling. A ham all baked like a warm potato. “Can we talk?”

He shifted his head closer to your touch, liking the way you slowly stroked his skin. “Yeah, what’s up?” He yawned.

“I’ve been thinking, for a while now. That I might be trans,” You paused, wanting to release the next few words from your brain. “I think I am.”

“Oh?” He shifted up, sitting up now and trying to wake up his brain. Serious conversation time. “Really?” His voice was kind, asking for confirmation.

You nodded, “Yes.”

“As in nonbinary or trans masc?” He ran a hand through his hair, swooping the fluff back. Pulling himself together.

You laughed, feeling the butterflies swarm in your stomach. “Trans masculine.”

“Okay,” he smiled, nodding. Taking it in. “So uh, what do you want to do? If anything at all?”

“Honey-” You pestered, giving him a look.

“I’m asking! That’s up to you!” He was ginger, trying not to pry but dying inside. The questions!

“Clothes, that’s for one thing.”

“You’re already wearing my boxers- we gotta get you more of those.”

You had been stealing them from him. They were comfy, among other things. You couldn’t help but crack a guilty smile. He had mentioned it before when he had ran out, pissed because he hated wearing dirty ones.

“And shirts, and some good cuffed jeans-” You added.

“Dickie’s has those, we can thrift you Carhart’s from Goodwill.”

You paused, holding your breath. Holding onto the next few words, as if they couldn’t be taken back. Releasing them into the world, “And transitioning. I think I want to do that too.”

He reached for your hand, his thumb stroking your palm as the two of you laid in bed. Him looking down at you as your sprawled out, your elbow propping yourself up. “Okay, if that’s what you want, I support you. I want that too,” He pulled up your hand and pressed his lips to them softly. Firmly intertwining his fingers with yours, squeezing them tightly. Securely.

“Do you want to go by different pronouns? A name?”

“Yes, I want to be named Y/N,” You smiled, feeling his hands pull you in. Draw around you in a deep hug as he slid down to your level, comforting and embracing you. “I want to go by he/him pronouns.” You chuckled against his skin, head buried into the crook of his neck.

“Well hello my Prince, I’m so glad to meet you Y/N,” He pressed a kiss to your cheek, smiling through it as your heart brust. Crying in relief, in tears of joy and relief.

“You’re not mad?” You squeaked, tears rolling down your cheek.

“Baby~” He purred, pulling back, to look into your eyes. “Of course not, I want you to be happy. You’re precious to me,” He said, soothing you. “Is this what’s been bothering you?”

You nodded.

“I’ve been… wondering about it,” He mused. “I kinda figured it out after you bought your binder and started shaving your face. You barely had peach fuz but you looked so happy… so, much more bright that day,” You had slowly been trying things out. Listening to your body and how you felt. Changing your style, presenting more masculine. You even bought clothes from the men’s section and started to let go using gender specific pronouns for yourself. To ease the pain of dysphoria while you figured out feelings. Your therapist helped.

“But I’ve been waiting until you tell me, that’s your stuff,” He wiped your chin, brushing off the stream of tears. “I know you’d tell me eventually, whatever your answer was- I want to support you. I chose that long ago, I stand by that.” He smiled, adding, “And if things change in the future, that’s okay too. Gender and bodies are a tricky thing.”

There was so many choices- my so options- in how trans people choose to express themselves. All of them are valid, it’s what makes you happy is the most important thing. What aligns with yourself.

“Thank you,” You sniffled, peaking out a smile. You were happy, and now tired, and just wanted to curl up in bed. The rush of emotions flooding your system, the bent of stress and relief washing over your system. Draining you.

You wanted to feel this moment in its security, its acceptance. “That means a lot to me Brian.”

“Of course- and for what it matters-” He leaned into your ear, whispering, “I think you make a handsome man. And will continue too.”

“It doesn’t change things- between us?”

He shrugged, unfazed, “I don’t think so. I’m attracted to you and I like men so-” Another quizzical look, “I don’t see how it would change things in that department. I think I need to know more but I don’t think so.”

You raised an eyebrow, “What do you mean?”

“I want to read more about it so I can help you. I know it can be hard for trans people to get the resources they need to transition. We’re going to both go through this and I want to help you. -If that’s what you want, of course.”

“Oh! Okay,” you nodded. You slid down together, laying in each others arms. Curled underneath the seats, your tears dried up. Heart shining. “I want that, your help. I fucking hate calling the doctors office.”

He laughed, “I know! I know!” You would get stressed, talking on the phone could be weird sometimes. It made you anxious.

You tucked your head into his chest, hearing it beat with the life you held so closely. His arms wrapped around your waist, holding you close. “Thank you Bri, for everything.”

“Of course Y/N,” He spoke softly, warm. “I love you, you’re my everything.”

The two of you drifted off to sleep in bed, listening to the sound of Summer rain come in through the window. Drops slapping against the hard concrete, easing you into a deep slumber.

****

The two of you got along better after that. You were able to save up enough money to see a gender therapist. A general practice doctor that specialized in transgender health, giving you access to the hormone treatments you so desperately needed.

The changes came slow at first, the T being newly added to your system. Eventually, the body hair came in. Sprouting up your legs and turning thicker, darker, up your knees. Your body weight shifted, redistributing around your body with a healthy addition of exercise. Your jaw widened, spotting itself with facial hair which you so proudly grew. Cleaned up and trimmed, sculpting it to your desire.

That was one of your favorite moments. When you asked Brian to show you how he shaved his face. He pulled out of his bag of clippers, helped you learn how to wash your face and spread shaving cream on your face. How to guide the razor against your skin, trimming the well grown facial hair.

“-Like this- you gotta go against the grain if you want it smooth,” You were both creamed up, with your hair clipped back. He had a headband pushing his strands back, keeping it from falling into his face.

“Okay,” You mumbled in front of the mirror, guiding the razor across your skin. Wincing when you nicked yourself and hoping you don’t do that again.

“It’ll get easier, trust me,” He assured, slicking the last bit of cream off of his clean face. He mostly kept himself clean shaven, though there was a time where he rocked a thin mustache. Even some musky stubble around his cheeks. Which you loved.

And so was your transition.

In time, you qrew to love and enjoy your body even more. Seeing the face you so expected- and wished for- being reflected in the mirror. Muscles come in, adjusting your body shape to one that you desired.

Brian was very supportive. Even helped you find a good doctor for your top surgery. He pitched in money for your procedure, taking some extra hours as the store manager at the record shop where he worked. He was planning on taking it over from the owner in a few years. He had helped them expand into a second storefront. He was proud of it.

He drove you to your surgery, making sure you had everything prepared. Extra magazines, music, books, even your sketch pad and journal if you so wished it. You would sleep after your surgery in the hospital bed, groggy and tired from the boat load of meds and painkillers lulling you to a peaceful state. He wanted to make sure you were content, that you healed well and passed the time while you recovered. The tiny hospital tv having few channels to capture your attention. He ready to help you pass the time.

After your surgery, you couldn’t move your arms very much. At least not above your head. It would pull at your incisions, the area bruised and draining of fluids. He would tend to you, changing your bandages and helping you get things from the kitchen cupboards. Asking you to relax and let him take over- when you insisted on cooking dinner. That you felt fine, that the pain wasn’t too bad. Even though your chest ached, he didn’t want you to push yourself.

It was okay to lean on someone else, to let them tend to you at times in need.

He adored you and embraced the new found man you had become. He liked hearing you softly talk into his ear, listening to how your voice had dropped. Had changed, deepened, and thickened. It was an adventure for the both of you, one that you happily embraced and found a new home. In you, yourself, and each other.

He was proud to call you his boyfriend, his favorite man on Earth.

#gleaming the cube #brian kelly #brian kelly x reader #brian kelly x trans masc reader #brian kelly x transman reader #brian kelly x transgender #trans #trans man #fan fic #tyler writes #queer fan fic #queer #i fucking loved writing this fic #gender euphoria #its okay to be trans #being trans is BEAUTIFUL!#happy and healthy relationships #based in love and support for one another #wholesome

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wherevermyway · 4 years ago

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step out! do what you want (chapter one)

pairing: reader/bang chan rating: explicit | 18+ warnings: smut with plot, smoking, explicit drug use, alcohol, partying, unprotected hookups word count: about 6,100 also posted to my AO3 here! chapter/series navigation

chapter one: my house

after being abandoned by your best friend at a lame party, you run into Christopher Bang, a well-known music producer who was also conveniently abandoned at the same party. you're invited back to his place for some fun, but you end up biting off more than you can chew when you find out who he really is.

hello new readers! this is just a precursor to let you know that this is not going to be an all-smut-all-the-time super happy fun fic. there will be dark elements, especially from chapter six to the conclusion. smut has been marked as noted (chapters one through five) so if you’re just here for that, there you go!

disclaimer: any reference to persons in this work of fiction are purely coincidental. the characters referenced from Stray Kids are interpretations loosely based on their personalities in the group and do not represent the real people behind the personas. if this, or any of the content included in the warnings above make you uncomfortable, please stop reading now.

side note: for the love of minho’s cats, don’t mix party drugs or drugs with alcohol.

I also recommend listening to "true intentions" by takayan, "bet bet" and "I'm in trouble" by nu'est, and "nxt 2 u" by none other than 3racha while listening to this. playlist can be found here!

“Fuck,” you grumbled under your breath as you sat down on the grungy couch behind you. Your feet were killing you because you thought that your brand new high heels were a great complement to your outfit, no matter what the physical cost to you was. Loud EDM music pulsed from the large speakers on the other side of the room, the bass trembling the couch from underneath you.

Leaning back, appreciating the fact that you were finally off of your feet, you sighed a breath of relief. You silently swore to yourself that you were going to kill Minji the next time you saw her. How could she leave you alone for some dude? Hyunjin: was that his name?

Whatever. It didn’t matter. This party sucked; you didn’t know anyone, it smelled like feet, and whomever was controlling the music was horrible. Who plays EDM sandwiched between lo-fi beats?

You were ripped from your thoughts as the couch shifted as some guy with very bright and well-maintained (albeit obviously bleached) blond hair unceremoniously flopped down next to you. He let his face fall into his hands as he let out an exasperated groan. It seemed like tonight wasn’t going well for him, either.

“What’s your deal?” You shouted in his direction, not actually caring if Mr. Blond responded or was interested in chatting with you.

He lifted his head up from his palms, tilting back to look at you. You saw the whites of his eyes quickly glance up and down your torso and head. An uneasy expression briefly passed over his face - you couldn’t quite decipher exactly what it was. You looked him up and down - in the dim lighting, you could tell he was wearing a nice white button-up shirt, casually buttoned only to his sternum, and some skin-tight, shiny black pants that you assumed were made out of mock leather. He looked good.

Mr. Blond sighed and sat back. He opened his mouth, but didn’t make an effort to look at you. “My friend left me. Ran into some chick he used to fuck off and on and I have no idea where he went.” His hand reached into his back pocket, fumbling around until he pulled out a black pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He brought the pack to his mouth, wrapping his lips around one that popped out of the pack and pulled it out, turning the rest of the pack to you.

“Want one?” He turned his head towards you and looked at you with a relaxed, tired look in his eyes. “You look pretty miserable too. Hot, but miserable.” Mr. Blond’s blatant comment elicited an unwanted snort from you as you grabbed a cigarette from the pack.

“What the hell,” you said with an uncommitted tone as you lifted the cigarette to your lips, “this party sucks and I could use something to take the edge off.” The man sat back on his hand, lifting his lighter to your mouth, lighting the cigarette as you breathed in.

The soft flavour of menthol danced around your tongue as the vapour travelled to your lungs. ‘An interesting choice’, you thought, ‘Blondie doesn’t seem like the type.’

As if he could read your thoughts, Mr. Blond chimed in, “I only smoke when I come to these parties.” You watched him as he relaxed back into the couch, entranced as he took a drag from his cigarette, the smoke billowing up from his lips deliberately travelling up his nose. The sight made your stomach tingle with excitement for a fleeting moment. “I fucking hate menthol, though,” he laughed, looking at the cigarette in his hand before looking to you and smiling, “Name’s Christopher. Chan, when I’m here in Seoul, but I prefer Christopher.”

You smile, taking a drag from your cigarette before introducing yourself. “Nice to meet you, Blondie.” It seemed like your night was finally starting to get a little exciting.

Time had passed, although you weren’t exactly sure how long it was. Conversations with Christopher came naturally - you easily chatted about your interests; how he was in the music production industry and was pretty well known, but preferred staying underground whenever possible; he even seemed genuinely interested when you told him about your modelling career, travelling between South Korea and your home country of Japan, occasionally travelling across Europe and the US for some really high-end shoots.

Minji had texted you an hour ago saying she was sorry for abandoning you and apologizing more, admitting in a text ten minutes later with four pleading face emojis and two sets of eye emojis prefacing that she had left with Hyunjin and was turning off her phone for the night. It didn’t bother you in the slightest, and the look on Christopher’s face as he realized that his friend Hyunjin left with your friend made you belly laugh uncomfortably hard for a good minute.

“What a small world,” you gasp out between laughs, wiping the tears from the corners of your eyes. “That bitch left me for your friend! I guess it was fate that we met tonight.”

Christopher smiled and ran his fingers through his hair. You had a feeling you knew what he was going to ask as he turned to you with a smirk on his face, him biting the corner of his bottom lip. You didn’t want to spoil the fun prematurely by interrupting, deciding you’d hear him out. You always enjoyed watching potential one-night stands squirm when they wanted to ask you to their place.

“Yeah, seems like we were meant to meet each other tonight,” he says as he casually reaches his arm across the back of the couch behind you. The stale smell of cigarette smoke doubled in strength as he leaned in closer to you. “What do you say we leave this horrible party and head back to my place? No pressure, it just seems like it’d be more fun to get to know you somewhere that didn’t smell like a locker room.”

Both of you chuckled at Christopher’s lame, but accurate, joke, and you smiled up at him. “Anything beats this place,” you reach down to touch his thigh, and you bring your face next to his ear, whispering, “let’s get out of here,” as casually as you could manage.

‘Oh shit,’ you thought to yourself as the taxi pulled up to Christopher’s apartment building. This was the good part of Seoul: Blondie lived in Cheongdam-dong, which was where the elite and the wealthiest entertainers lived. Surely this was a mistake?

As incredible as it was to actually be going inside one of these apartment buildings, you felt nervous that you were going to break something or offend someone by looking at them for just too long.

Christopher gently pulled you along by your hand, stopping in front of the elevator bays. He looked over at you, noticing that your eyes were darting around and you seemed nervous. “What’s up?” He softly squeezed your hand, looking down at you.

A nervous laugh surprised you as it escaped your lips. “I’ve never been somewhere like this. Gangnam-gu, sure; Cheongdam-dong, yeah - but an apartment here?” You looked up to Christopher, wide-eyed and bewildered, “Who are you really?”

Ding. The arrival of the elevator interjected in your conversation, as Christopher looked down and chuckled. “C’mon,” he said with a non-committal tone to his voice, “I’ll tell you upstairs.”

The ride up to the 32nd floor was tense, and you could feel your hand starting to sweat as every inch of the skin that touched Christopher’s hand was suddenly hypersensitive. ‘Who is this man,’ you wondered to yourself as you stared at him through the corner of your eye.

“32nd floor. Please watch your step.” The soft, feminine voice of the elevator’s AI announced as you reached your destination. Christopher wordlessly pulled you along, through the doors, down the left corridor. You both paused in front of his door as he pulled his cellphone out from his other back pocket, waving it over the keyless entry at his door. 3217 was emboldened in sleek, silver lettering next to his front door. You made a mental note, ‘I should send Minji a text so she knows where to find my body if I go missing.’ It wasn’t a serious thought, but it was something that did cross your mind.

Christopher looked down to his phone, frowning as he scanned his eyes across the screen. He whispered something in English under his breath as he let go of your hand, his voice tense and uncomfortable. With his free hand, he opened the door, holding it open for you. He pointedly looked down both sides of the corridor, making sure to press the door closed as he engaged the thick physical lock above the handle.

“I’ve gotta take care of something really quickly,” he said in a serious tone, turning to you and offering you an uneasy smile. “Feel free to help yourself to anything in here, I’ll be back in a minute.” With that, he spun on his heel and darted off to a room beyond the kitchen, his eyes glued to his phone the entire walk.

The view from the windows is what you first noticed. You could see the buildings of Seoul reach across the horizon, mesmerized by the twinkling lights across the city. It was a beautiful view, one you figure was worth the money that this surely cost. As you pulled your back to reality, you slipped your shoes off at the entrance and made your way to a barstool towards the kitchen counter. You pulled your phone out of your pocket and shot off a quick text to Minji.

Hey, I’m out with this guy I met at that party. His name is Christopher Bang. Another music producer type haha, oops. Apparently, he knows Hyunjin? Anyway, he lives in Cheongdam of all places! I’ll check in with you tomorrow at some point to make sure I’m still alive lol. Btw, you suck for leaving me at that party alone. I’ll get you back, bitch.

You add in a couple of broken heart and crying emojis at the end of the text so Minji knows you’re not actually mad at her. You also send her a pin of your location - just in case; it was something you both did as a habit. As you lock your phone and put it back in your pocket, you hear some terse yelling come from the room that Christopher is in. You’re not able to make it out from this far away, but it sounds like he’s firmly scolding someone over the phone in a mixture of what you suspect is English and Mandarin.

‘Relax,’ you mentally reassure yourself, ‘you just met the guy, he lives in the expensive part of town, he’s probably just having problems with some music deal or something. It’s fine.’

After a minute or two, you decide to grab a glass from the cupboard and fill it with water, if anything, to pass the time. As you’re turning the faucet off, Christopher comes out of the room, his hair dishevelled and another button from his shirt undone. He walks to the entryway and unceremoniously slips his shoes off. A heavy sigh escapes his lips, then he turns around and walks towards you.

“I’m really sorry about that,” he says with a pleading look on his face, “I’ve just been dealing with some issues with work and it pops up at the worst possible times. Hopefully I didn’t worry you too much?” The upward inflection at the end of his sentence and the smirk on his face as he slowly walks up to you somewhat reassures you. The lighting of the room highlights Christopher’s features in the loveliest way possible - you didn’t notice before, but he has a dimple on the right side of his face when he smiles. He was an honestly attractive man.

“It’s fine, it was just…” you smile, shake your head, and look down to your glass of water as your sentence trails off. Strange? Different? You weren’t exactly sure how to end that sentence.

Christopher picks up on your tension, and lifts his hands to your face. They are soft, and there’s a light woodsy scent that travels with them, like a faint cologne that’s slowly worn off through the night. “I’d like to make it up to you,” he softly lifts up your head, and your eyes slowly trail up to meet his. It startles you how close you are to his face, so close that you can see just how thick his eyelashes are and how deep his brown eyes are.

It happens almost mechanically. Before you really register it, your lips are up against his. It’s pensive and timid at first, but the awkwardness fades as you part your lips against his, letting your tongue travel out to touch his lips, his teeth, then his tongue. It goes from soft and romantic to passionate and intense in a split second. Christopher takes your face into his hands with purpose now, trailing his fingers back into your hair, digging his fingernails into your scalp and pulling you into him.

An anguished moan slips from his lips and it causes your stomach to do backflips. As you take the time to acquaint yourselves with each other’s mouths, Christopher’s hands drop from your head down to your waist. He breaks away from the kiss, looking at you with half-lidded eyes, before he bends down and lifts you up from your hips. You wrap your legs around his waist and giggle excitedly as he carries you from the kitchen into the room he was in earlier.

In a moment, you’re observing the ceiling of this room, as Christopher softly sets you down on the bed. You want to take in the environment, to know more about this mysterious man, but he ruins that opportunity for you as he crawls on top of you, peppering kisses from your lips, to your cheek, down your neck, and across your collarbones. He lifts his head to look at you, smiling somewhat deviously.

“Hey,” he breathes out, “you wanna try something? You can totally say no, but, I think it’ll be fun.” His voice layered in a dark, seductive tone that makes you all the more curious about him, that familiar question popping up in the back of your head: who was this man?

‘Oh no’, you think, worried that he’s going to propose some stupid or weird sexual act that’s going to completely ruin the moment. Christopher must have noticed the look on your face, because he chuckles and sits back on his heels. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing that out of the ordinary. It’s just something that I like to do now and then. Like I said, you can absolutely say no and I won’t judge you or pressure you.” He slips his hand in his front pocket and pulls out a small velvet bag.

You sit up on your elbows, curious as to what the man could possibly have in such a tiny bag. As Christopher opens the bag, he pulls out a small plastic bag with white powder, and another small bag with some baby blue tablets. He outstretches his palm towards you, letting you inspect the bags.

“I might also have an affinity for party drugs,” he says with a nervous chuckle, “comes with the music industry.”

You look down at Christopher’s palm, then back up to meet his eyes. You’re not really upset, just a bit taken aback. However, you would definitely be lying to yourself if you said you weren’t at least somewhat curious. Part of you had a feeling this was a bad idea, but the less-logical part of you just wanted to let loose and enjoy yourself for once. When would you really, honestly get a chance to have sex with such a good looking man in an apartment you would never be able to afford in ten lifetimes?

As you bit your lip back and looked up at Christopher with a smirk, you knew and acknowledged that there were red flags in the back of your head, but you pushed them aside, sitting fully up, grabbing the tops of Christopher’s thighs.

“Let’s do it,” you excitedly whisper, against your best instincts, before you lean in to kiss Christopher again. His lips curl in a boyish, excited grin as he gives you a quick kiss back, reaching down to grab your hands from his thighs.

“Come with me.”

Christopher lays down generic ground rules before anything fun happens. He explicitly tells you that if anything makes you uncomfortable, you need to tell him. You reassure him that, yes, you’ve tried cocaine a couple of times because it’s rampant in the modelling industry, but that the ecstasy was something foreign to you. This whole situation was foreign to you, but you continued to stuff that down and ignore it. You needed to live a little while you were still young, right?

You hear Christopher assertively say your name as he waves his hand in front of your face. “Are you listening to me? I won’t do this unless you really want to and you listen to me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you shake your head, coming back to reality. “Sorry, I was just spacing out for a second. Honestly, Christopher, I’m fine. I’ll drink water and I’ll tell you if anything makes me uncomfortable.” Christopher’s lips tugged into a slight frown as he lifts his eyebrow. “I promise,” you reassure, grabbing his hand from his side.

“Good,” he relaxes, turning back to the kitchen counter. He grabs the blue tablets, handing one out to you. “Take this first. It’s gonna take a half-hour to really feel it, and that’s when you’re really going to want to play around. Make sure you drink the entire glass of water, too. Trust me.”

Excitedly, you grab the tablet from Christopher’s hand and slip it on your tongue, swallowing it down a bit nervously with a few sips of water. Your eyes dart up, taking in how intently Christopher is watching your every movement. When you set your glass down, he follows suit by dropping the tablet into his mouth and taking a single large drink of water from his glass.

“Okay,” he exclaims, a nervous smile on his face, “still wanna do a couple lines?”

You nod your head a bit too excitedly as you tuck your bottom lip under your teeth. Christopher smirks in response as he empties the bag onto the countertop, methodically dividing it into four lines - two for each of you. He spends time spreading it out with a card he pulled out from his wallet, holding a ₩50,000 note in his other hand.

“Alright,” he says as he stands up straight, turning to look at you. He rolls up the note into a tight cylinder and passes it off to you with a soft smile, “ladies first, yeah?” You take the note from him and look down to the countertop. With a quick breath in, you bend down - making sure to wiggle your bum a bit for good measure - and take the note to your nose, lining up the end of it to the first line. You quickly sniff up the first line, take a couple of breaths, then take in the second line.

With a perk in your step, you snap yourself back upright and look at Christopher with wide eyes and a delighted grin. His mouth is slightly agape and his eyes are wide, taking you in. “Oh my god,” he whispers in English, switching back to Korean in the same breath, “you are so much fun to watch.” You giggle and pass the note back to him.

Christopher bends down and looks up at you as he gets close to the countertop. “This one’s for you,” he says with a wink, before he inhales both lines in succession. He stands back up, quickly rubbing underneath his nostril before leaning on the countertop with his hands. He takes a quick breath, then turns back to you with an obvious fire in his eyes.

“Let’s get started, baby,” he demands, a low tone in his voice you haven’t heard yet. Christopher grabs your hand, pulling you back into what you assume is his bedroom. He leads you to the edge of the bed, guiding you down as he presses his lips to yours with a renewed hunger for you. His kiss isn’t as soft and tender as it was before: this is more calculated and determined, as if he needed to kiss you in order to save his life. He wastes no time inviting his tongue into your mouth without warning, exploring your mouth with purpose.

You can’t really help it, but you moan at the assertiveness in Christopher’s behaviour, which causes him to subconsciously grind his pelvis down into yours. There’s an obvious, apparent firmness that comes between you and a breath hitches in your throat. “Chris,” you groan out, “I want you, please.”

Christopher breaks away from the kiss, lifting his head up to look at you. “No,” he says with a wide grin on his face, “we’re going to play for a while first, baby.” He sits up onto his knees and unbuttons his shirt completely, aggressively pulling the bottom of his shirt from the waistband of his pants before haphazardly discarding it on to the floor.

You really don’t mean to stare - especially not with your jaw hanging wide open - but you find yourself transfixed on the man’s very obvious and well-sculpted torso. His abdomen is rigid, and his arms have very well defined muscles that are very distracting. Christopher laughs, stretching his hands out towards you.

“Can I?” He questions, reaching down to the hem of your shirt. You throw all caution to the wind, excitedly nodding, inching closer towards him on your knees. As he smiles at you, he grabs your shirt, pulling it over your head and tossing it to the ground with a bit more tact. A gasp escapes him as he draws his attention up from your abdomen, slowly up your torso, and eventually looking back up at you with a completely dumbfounded look plastered on his face.

You take this opportunity to slip your hands behind your back, grabbing each side of your bra and pushing the clips together to unhook each side, slipping the straps down each arm. The soft fabric falls from your skin as you peel it off of you and drop it off the edge of the bed.

“Wow,” Christopher breathes out, taking his hands from your hips and slowly lifting them up under your breasts. He gently cups the underside of them, and pulls you into his lap. His soft lips come crashing into yours as he sinks his hands down to the waistband of your jeans, fumbling with the button a bit before he’s able to finally undo it and slide your zipper down. Making sure not to break from the kiss, you hook your thumbs in the waistband of your pants and wiggle them off to about your knees.

Christopher guides you onto your back, giving you a quick kiss one more time before he sits up. “Let me help you out with this,” he says with a smirk as he pulls your jeans off, but leaving you in your underwear. Your jeans easily slip off of your ankles and you can’t help but blush at how exposed you are. Almost as if he can feel your nervousness and insecurities pop up, He smiles and leans down to kiss you for a moment.

“You’re beautiful,” he says with a smile, kissing you again before he steps down to the floor. Your eyes follow him, looking at the way his tongue does a quick pass over his lips before he bites the bottom one and moves to unbutton his pants. The skin-tight material provides a bit of difficulty as he struggles to get the legs to slip down past his thighs, but they come off easily after they pass his knees.

“Man, it’s way easier getting those on than off,” Christopher laughs as he steps out of his pants. He stands upright, and that’s when you realize he’s completely naked.

“Oh my god,” you say with a bit of shock to your voice. It’s a bit embarrassing, you can’t help but stare because his cock is right there and obvious and very hard. It’s larger than you expected, and you subconsciously suck your bottom lip under your teeth as you stare up at him.

He awkwardly laughs as he walks around the bed, sitting at the empty space next to you. “I don’t know if you’re feeling it yet or not, but I really want you to come over here and ride my face right now.”

The sheer bluntness of Christopher’s statement causes a tingling in your stomach and makes your head start to feel fuzzy and tingly. Maybe the ecstasy was starting to kick in after all, because you felt soft and really affectionate. “You want me to do what?” You question, nervously smiling. This was something none of your previous boyfriends or one-night stands had ever done, never mind enthusiastically wanting to try it.

Christopher turns back, grabbing the pillow from your side of the bed, putting it on top of the pillow behind him. He then leans back, resting his head on the pillows, and he tugs your wrist gently, pulling you over him, straddling his waist. “Come on, I promise you’ll enjoy it. If you don’t, then I’ll stop and do whatever you want, okay?”

You have to admit, he has a way with words and you were curious if he could actually make you come or if he just had an oversized ego. “Alright,” you say with a nervous smile, your eyes darting down to Christopher’s chest. His eyes light up and he grabs your hips with a bit too much excitement.

“Really?” The way that he earnestly smiles is really cute. “You wouldn’t believe it, but most women I’ve been with don’t want to try it. It’s something I love doing.” He lets out a giggle and hooks his index fingers into the waistband of your panties. “Can I?”

A wave of excitement takes over - yeah, the drugs are fully kicking in now - and you nod your head a couple of times. “Fuck yes,” Christopher says under his breath as he pulls your panties down in one quick motion, guiding your both of legs out of them. He grabs your hips again and looks up at you with half-open eyes, “Come to me, baby.”

It feels like your inhibitions have completely left you as you shift your pelvis up to Christopher’s face. He reaches his tongue out and takes a quick taste of you, looking up at you very eagerly. A smile comes across his face and he pulls you down onto him fully. Once you’ve rested on his chin, he wastes no time lapping you up.

His tongue is warm and the way it feels on your sensitive skin is enough to make your head spin. A wave of happiness flows up from your toes all the way to your head, giving you a body-wide tingle. As you start to feel warm all around, Christopher takes his tongue and presses it up against your clit, slowly licking you up from the middle of his tongue all the way to the tip. You choke out a moan and slam your hands on the wall ahead of you.

“Oh, fuck,” you groan out, looking down to Christopher, who has a very happy grin plastered on his face.

“Does it feel good, baby?” He moans out in between aggressive licks, taking one of his hands from your hips and slipping it in between your legs. “If you like that,” he says as he slides one of his fingers inside of you, “you’re going to love this.”

Your eyes shoot wide open and you curl your fingers on the wall. A squeak escapes from your lips as Christopher takes another finger and inserts it into you, fingers slowly riding in and out, curling towards your pelvic bone when they’re fully inside of you. Suddenly, the room is unbearably hot and your nerves are on fire. The drugs were having a tremendous effect on you, and everything felt more intense than you had ever experienced.

Christopher took his free hand, grabbing your thigh to steady you. “It’s alright, baby, I’ve got you. You’re not going anywhere, so relax.” His voice is soothing and the calming tone of his voice somehow turns you on more. Your hands slip down the wall a bit and your head falls onto your forearm.

“If you stop one more, ah, time, I swear,” breathy moans accent your words, “I swear I will, ah, kill you, Christopher Bang. Fuck.”

A laugh comes from him, “I’d like to see you try.” As you try to come up with a witty quip, he starts pumping his fingers in and out of you fervently, sucking your clit into his mouth as he gives frequent small licks to you.

The intensity is almost too much to handle. Whines keep leaving you subconsciously and you turn to bite your arm to stifle your moans. Your teeth dig into your skin, and you’re sure it’s going to leave a bruise tomorrow. Christopher is relentless, his fingers and tongue working in tandem, and it’s causing your brain to melt. The heat building up in the pit of your stomach is unbearable; your legs start to shake, and you feel close to climaxing.

“Fuck, I’m gonna,” you squeak out in a panicked voice, “Chris, I’m gonna come!”

Christopher moves his hand from your hip to the small of your back, somehow working you even harder. With one last press of his fingers against your g-spot, your head snaps up, straightening your back. You scream out his name at the top of your lungs as your orgasm takes control of you. There’s something about this orgasm that’s otherworldly, it feels almost as if you can feel every nerve in your body vibrate within you and it feels incredible. In your blurry state, you make a mental note to try this more often, the drugs and the face-riding.

Reality slowly comes back to you as you roll off of Christopher and to the side of the bed. “Holy shit,” you breathe out, “that was incredible.” You turn your head to look at him and his pupils are fully blown out, a proud grin on his face.

“You look like you had a good time, yeah?” He questions, rolling over onto his side and resting his head on his palm. “What’d I tell you?”

“Yeah, you were right,” a giddy smile is plastered on your face that you can’t seem to relax, “I did enjoy myself. I think you might have ruined me from anyone else for a while.” You both share a good laugh and the room falls quiet. The nerves in your body have calmed down a bit, but your heart is still racing.

Christopher rolls over, reaching for a bottle of water on the nightstand. He takes a quick drink and passes it to you. “Here, you definitely need this. And you’re not allowed to say no, remember? Hydration’s important.” Too exhausted to argue, you nod your head and take a couple of sips from the bottle. You hand the bottle back and he puts it back on the nightstand. As you’re about to thank him, he takes you by surprise by crawling over you and crashes his lips against yours.

“We’re not done yet,” he says with an ominous tone, breaking away from the kiss, “Not even close. Are you ready for me, baby?” Your eyes widen and you look down between your legs. Christopher is there and you’re concerned if he’ll actually fit. After staring for a second too long, you look up at him with pleading eyes and nod your head. “Alright.”

He sits back on his heels and licks his hand. Once he’s got enough saliva on his hand, he grabs his cock and starts slowly stroking himself, biting his lip as he looks directly at you. “What? Like what you see?” Christopher smiles, then brings himself back down to your level. “I’m gonna go inside you now, are you ready?” You look up at him nervously and quickly nod your head in agreement a couple of times. “No, I want you to tell me you want it.”

Your face is suddenly hot with embarrassment; somehow, this was more embarrassing than sitting on someone else’s face. Christopher puts a reassuring hand on your cheek, then gives a peck to your forehead. “C’mon, baby, tell me.”

“I want you,” you nervously gulp, but find the confidence you need, “I want you to fuck me like it’s your last day on earth.”

Your words make it seem like a spark is ignited in Christopher: his eyes darken and he suddenly gets a serious look on his face. In an instant, he’s pushing himself inside you, the painful but wonderful sensation of being filled up makes you roll your eyes and head backwards. You reach up your hands haphazardly into his hair, gripping tightly once you have fistfuls in each hand.

“Fuck,” he groans once he’s completely inside you. “Baby, you feel like heaven. I’m gonna move, okay?” You nod your head a bit more excitedly than you were intending to, but it makes him smile. He pulls himself out all the way, then quickly slams his hips against yours. The sudden movement causes you to arch your back and moan louder than you expected you could.

Christopher leans down, his arms on either side of your head. He brings his face to yours and sloppily kisses you as he rocks his hips back and forth, grinding the tip of his cock against your cervix. You open your mouth, letting your tongues explore each other. As he keeps moving, he takes his left hand and brings it up to your hair, gripping it. The tugging of your hair causes a lightning strike of nerves to light up for a split second.

“Chris,” you moan into his mouth, breath hitching in your throat as his pace quickens, “fuck me harder!”

Your request makes him break from your kiss. He reaches his arms down to your legs and places them both over his right shoulder. “Alright, baby, just tell me if it’s too much,” he smiles deviously and starts thrusting into you again. The new positioning takes you by surprise, making every small movement that much more intense.

Profanity punctuates each thrust as you moan and cry almost incoherently. It feels like you’re starting to lose your grip on reality. It’s probably the combination of this position and the drugs, but your body feels like it’s on an entirely different plane of existence. Every single cell in your body feels like it’s going to explode and you can’t stop yourself from crying out Christopher’s name over and over.

“That’s it, baby,” his voice brings you back a bit, providing you a sense of anchorage in your bliss, “you belong to me tonight.” He fucks you faster and a bit more sloppily, his cadence no longer keeping up a steady rhythm. “Fuck, if I keep going like this,” he cuts himself off, moaning out your name, “baby, I’m gonna come, can I come inside you?”

Words just won’t come to you, so you settle for vigorously nodding your head. Christopher puts one of his arms down on the bed next to you and puts most of his weight on to it. “Fuck,” he groans and tucks his head into his chest, “fuck!” He thrusts into you one more time and bottoms out, twitching as his cum fills you up in rhythmic spurts.

You both stay like this for a moment, before he releases your legs down to his sides. He leans in and lazily kisses you before rolling over, panting and clearly out of breath.

“That was,” he sighs, turning his head in your direction with half-open eyes, “that was incredible. Yeah? How are you feeling?”

Normally, you wouldn’t curl up into a one-night stand, but tonight has you feeling a certain type of way. You crawl into Christopher’s chest and smile, “I feel amazing. That was the most fun I’ve had in so long.”

Christopher laughs, wrapping his arms around you and resting his chin against the top of your head. “I’m glad. Let’s do this again in the morning.” You both let out soft giggles and relax into each other. As sleep starts to overtake you, you swear you hear your cell phone buzzing. “Whatever,” you think, “it can’t be that important.”

As you’d find out the next morning, you were wrong. It was incredibly important.

#stray kids smut #bang chan smut #chris bang smut #skz smut #stray kids #bang chan #putting the bang in bang chan lol #stray kids fic #drug dealer au #step out do what you want #skzsmutnet #skzsmutnetwork #wherevermyway

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rhysismydaddy · 5 years ago

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The Librarian Ch.1 (Nessian fic)

Wowzers, it’s been a while since I posted! I’ve been writing though! I just have a problem where I start writing shit and never finish it haha.

I finished this one, and it’s 4 parts, they’re all written, and they’ll be becoming out this week!

Synopsis: Cassian Nezara is the King of Campus. He’s the star quarterback for the winning football team, he’s got a great personality, and he’s pretty good looking, too. But when he’s forced to volunteer at the campus library because of a fight, he meets Nesta Archeron, the mysterious and sarcastic librarian. Finding out her secret changes how he views his status on campus forever.

| Masterlist | Part 2 | Part 3 |

________________________________________________________________

~Cassian~

Cassian barreled through the sea of freshman in front of him, almost knocking one into the bookshelf next to her.

“Sorry,” he muttered, not slowing down.

Coach would kill him if he was late.

He practically ran up to the little desk in the corner of the first-floor lobby. “Hi, um excuse me,” he said to the woman sitting behind the desk. She had her back turned, feet propped on the desk in front of her without a care in the world. “Do you work here?”

She didn’t turn around. Maybe she didn’t work here. The back of her head looked a little young to be a librarian, anyway.

“Excuse me,” he said again to her back.

She still didn’t turn around. Cassian managed to put his temper on a tight leash before slamming his hand into the little bell on top of the desk.

With a heavy sigh, the woman snapped her book shut, whirling around.

Cassian froze. And stared.

He’d been right about the young part. She was probably his age, maybe a little younger. And fucking gorgeous. Crystal blue eyes, high cheekbones, lips that begged to be kissed. She was in an oversize sweatshirt and jeans, but he could tell she had a small figure that’d fit perfectly in his arms.

Why the hell was she in this dusty place?

“Books are organized by topic and last name, reference numbers are posted at the end of the columns,” she said drily, then made to turn back around.

He reached out and grabbed the edge of her chair.

“I’m not looking for a book.”

She glared at the hand clamped on her chair until he released it. “It’s a library. Surely even you noticed that.”

Jesus, what was this chick’s problem? Weren’t librarians supposed to be sweet old ladies with cats and a kink for romance novels?

“Yeah, I noticed,” he replied, equally as terse.

She just raised an eyebrow.

“I’m Cassian Nezara. I’m... a volunteer.”

The librarian looked him up and down. “Blood drive’s next week.”

“I’m not here for the blood drive. Coach Hampton should’ve sent an email-”

She’d been terse before, but her tone shifted even more toward something like hatred. “Coach Hampton.”

Cassian nodded, confused as hell. Everyone loved Coach.

I mean, he’d led the school to victory in the National Championship for eight years in a row. Football was practically a religion around here, and Ron Hampton was the god.

He supposed that made him and his teammates angels. He didn’t exactly hate the idea. It sure as hell matched with how the population of the school treated him.

Ever since his first game when he’d been subbed for the starting quarterback, he’d been revered on campus. And had started. Everyone around him loved football. Loved coach.

But the woman in front of him rose to her feet, jabbed a finger into his chest, and practically shoved him backwards, growling, “You tell Coach Hampton to find somewhere else to stick his delinquent players.”

His eyebrows shot to his hairline, and he would’ve retorted, asked why, but the look in her eyes told him not to. Plus, it’s not like he wanted to be stuck volunteering in the library every day.

So Cassian just shrugged, grabbed his phone as he walked out of the building, and called coach.

“What the hell did you do now,” the old bastard gruffed as soon as the line went through.

He huffed a laugh. “Actually, I think it might have been you this time. The receptionist, librarian, whatever she is told me to tell you to ‘find somewhere else to stick your delinquent players.’”

Coach paused at that. Then, “Who was it?”

“Didn’t get a name.”

He could tell coach was pinching the brim of his nose as he said, “In your twenty-two years of life, when have you ever not gotten a girl’s name?”

“Listen,” he explained, “This chick is seriously pissed off at the world. And possibly deranged.”

“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

The line went dead.

Cassian groaned, resisting the urge to chuck his phone into a nearby fountain. The fact that he was being punished in the first place as stupid to him. But it was stupider that coach seemed it fit to make him suffer in a library of all places.

Plus, he was being punished for “fighting,” if you could even call it that. Cassian had landed one punch to the bastard’s face before his teammates pulled him back.

Plus, the idiot had deserved it. Captain of the rival football team and an all-around prick, Tamlin O’Connor had practically goaded him into a fight. And Cassian had been stupid enough to let him.

So stupid.

Coach usually didn’t care if they fought, but the prick was threatening to sue if the school didn’t “discipline” him. So library duty it was, apparently.

Coach’s car pulled up, and the stout man hopped out, already looking pissed off.

“Okay, you bonehead, I’m here. This has to work out, Cassian,” he scolded, that signature scowl of his deepening. “The library is the only place on campus you don’t have to have a record of working. Labs, working as a TA, the gym... they all record it. So if it goes in the system, it’s official, and I’ll have to bench you.”

Cassian rolled his eyes in annoyance, following coach back inside.

He pointed over to the desk where the receptionist sat, facing them this time, but still holding a book.

“Excuse me. I need to talk to someone about one of my player’s volunteering here,” Coach’s usually raspy voice was nicer, softer.

The woman sitting in front of them just looked up at Cassian as if to say, Ran to daddy?

Then flattened her gaze on coach. Waiting.

“The dean has ordered Mr. Nezara here,” he flung a hand in Cassian’s face, “to volunteer somewhere on campus as punishment for something, and we think the library would be a good fit.”

“Interesting. I don’t.”

She looked back down at her book.

Coach gritted his teeth. “Can I speak to your boss, young lady?”

Blue eyes flashed up at him, and a cruel smile twisted her mouth. “I don’t have a boss, old man.”

If Cassian had been anyone else, he’d have pulled up a chair and grabbed some popcorn. Coach was used to being listened to. Feared, even. And yet the woman lounging before them, looking at them as if they were filth... she didn’t seem the type to listen to anyone.

“Listen here-”

“No, you listen. I’m not one of your little preening ogres in a leotard you can boss around. I run this library. So I know about you’re little scheme.” She whispered the last part conspiratorially, “The one where one of your players does something stupid and you tell the dean he’ll “volunteer” somewhere, then let him nap in the library for an hour every day.”

Coach opened his mouth, but she held up a hand.

If he wasn’t being insulted every two seconds, he’d swear he was in love with her for that gesture alone.

“Mr. Nezara,” she spat, “will not be serving his sentence here. People who volunteer here want to volunteer.” She looked up at him. “And usually know how to read.”

With that, she simply opened her book again. Conversation over.

Cassian turned to leave, both annoyed and impressed, but Coach asked, “What will it take? For you to let him volunteer, and I mean actually volunteer, here?”

The librarian closed her book with a deep sigh. “Five percent of the annual earnings from football gets donated to my department,” she said as if she’d been waiting for the question.

Holy shit. That was insane. Coach would never-

“Two. Pre-season only.”

“Three. Regular season, no playoffs.”

“Deal,” Coach practically growled at the woman, turning to stomp out of the building. “He starts tomorrow.”

Casaian followed coach outside, and managed to contain his laughter at the man practically spitting fumes.

“You realize that if you don’t win the championship this year and make the money back, I’ll kick your ass, right?”

“Why the hell did you do that?” he asked instead. “Three percent of our regular season is still a good chunk of change.”

Coach shrugged, jaw tightening. “When I was your age, I made a similar mistake. And it went on my record and hurt my chances of going pro. I still made it happen, but it was harder. A lot harder. The school will still make millions from the season, and the majority of the cash comes from the playoffs anyway.”

Cassian usually didn’t run out of things to say, but he found himself struck dumb. Coach was a mean old bastard, but he cared about his players and would do just about anything for them. “Thank you.”

Coach spat on the ground. “Get your punkass to the stadium. And, for the love of God, don’t piss that woman off even more.”

~Nesta~

A cheap, cheap woman. That’s that Nesta was.

She’d sold herself out to the football team. For a chunk of money. Granted, it would probably be the biggest income for the library in years, but still. The thought of what she’d done made Nesta queasy.

And to Ron fucking Hampton out of all people. Her hatred for him and his entire team of stupid, muscled toddlers pretending to be good guys ran deep. And she’d agreed to spend an hour with one. Every day.

A cheap, cheap woman indeed.

Two years ago, she’d promised herself she would never again lay her fate in the hands of someone like Hampton. And yet, she’d just done exactly what he’d wanted her to do.

Granted, she didn’t roll over and take it like a good little young lady, but she ended up giving him what he wanted. Exactly like everyone else.

But, no. She wouldn’t let it be that easy. She’d punish Hampton the only way she could: through “Mr. Nezara.”

As Nesta walked into her apartment, locked all three deadbolts on her door, and took a steadying breath, she vowed to make her new volunteer’s life hell.

And smiled.

~Cassian~

Cassian hustled into the library once again the next day, sliding to a stop in front of the reception desk. He checked his watch, then smiled. A whole thirty seconds early.

The woman from yesterday just closed her book and jerked her chin to him. “Follow me.”

She walked through aisles of books, hips swaying in a way Cassian couldn’t help but watch. He’d thought about it after he’d left yesterday, but still had no idea why someone so young and beautiful would work in a boring, dead-end job like this. Or how she’d come to run the place, despite being the youngest librarian he’d ever seen.

He shook his head, continuing to follow her her down a set of stairs, a narrow hallway, and into the room at the end.

She strode on through, but Cassian paused in the doorway. The room was covered in dirt and dust and cobwebs, stacked floor to ceiling with boxes overflowing with books. Empty shelves stood along the walls, the middle space being taken up by the mountain of boxes.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

She ignored him. “Books go on the shelves. Cleaning closet is across the hall.”

“What the hell’s the point? They obviously haven’t been touched in years.” The thought of going through all of them made him growl.

“They’re books that have been taken out of circulation. We don’t throw them away.”

Cassian muttered, “Pack rats.”

The librarian rolled her eyes, striding for the door and gesturing for him to move.

He shook his head. “What’s your name?”

“Move.”

“Nope.” He had no idea why he wanted to know, but calling her the librarian was getting old.

A flash of something in her eyes. It looked like panic, but it was too quick to read properly. “My name is Nesta. Now move.”

He just stuck out his hand, smiling. “So good to meet you, Nes-”

The vile woman grabbed his hand, twisted it so hard he almost fell to his knees, and pulled him out of the doorway. “Asshole,” she muttered, smacking the back of his head for emphasis as she strode by him.

By the time his breathing returned to normal and the ache in his now-sore wrist dulled, she was gone.

It seemed as if little miss Nesta was trying to make him miserable. Probably so he’d quit and she didn’t have to deal with him anymore.

He grinned, eyeing the monstrous stack of dusty books once more. You’re going to have to try a lot harder than that, Nesta, baby.

~Nesta~

Nesta smiled as she headed down to the basement fifty minutes later. She made her footsteps quiet, hoping to catch him sitting on his ass. If she was being honest, she couldn’t wait to see how miserable he was.

It made her a terrible person, but she didn’t fight it.

Nesta peered around the corner.

And lost every thought of malice in her head.

The room was pristine. And that was putting it lightly. The shelves were shining, filled with clean books, the floors still wet from being mopped. Hell, even the ceiling looked like it had been scrubbed down.

Cassian stood in the corner, the last box of books on his shoulder, and said to her, “You guys invest in way too many books on the Civil War.”

Nesta forced herself to sound unimpressed, bored even. “They’re the most requested. But new ones come out every year with different information, so we have to replace them.”

He hummed, turning around to face her, that stupid little smile on his lips.

Apparently done with the box, he took it between two hands and crushed it, the motion making the muscles in his arms bunch together.

She looked around the room again, and his smile widened proudly. So Nesta just sighed and said, “Put the boxes out back in recycling, and you’re free to go.”

He managed to only look a little disappointed as he grabbed the rest of the boxes, then walked in front of her up the stairs. She sat behind her desk as he went outside, taking a sip of her smoothie.

Which she almost spit everywhere as a smooth voice said from behind her ear, “That, by the way, is how you sneak up on someone. See you tomorrow, baby.”

She swirled around to strangle him, but he was already walking away, hands in the hair in mock surrender.

Oh, she was going to kill him. Or at least make his life miserable. Let the games begin, baby.

________________________________________________________________

PART 2 will be out Thursday :) I promise it gets a lot more interesting. Let me know in my asks if you want to be tagged!

@bamchickawowow

#cassian #nesta archeron #nessian #nessian fanfiction #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin #a court of frost and starlight #acomaf #acotar #acowar #acofas #cassian x nesta

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savemefromanepicoftimewasted · 4 years ago

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My Best Pal

Steve Rogers X OFC Bucky Barnes X Reader Cap was the best thing to happen to Steve, he was the reason Steve had found the love of his life and gotten married. Three kids sitting together in the dining room, laughing at whatever one of them had seen. This was truly his life. a/n:this is the final fic to my Steve and Captain series, and I just want to say to everyone whose read it, thank you so much, this honestly made me cry like a baby when I finished it, but it’s something that I’ve loved to write, and I hope everyone loved it too, thank you <3

Steve took a slow, deliberate breath.

He was taking Rosie, and Aj to their first day of senior year, where had all the time gone? It felt like just yesterday he was holding them for the very first time. Haley was heading into her sophomore year of highschool, that didn’t help ease his anxiety.

“Dad, things are gonna be fine, we’ve been going to this school for years.” Rosie shrugged nonchalantly.

Steve ran a hand over his face, scratching his beard absentmindedly.

“That isn’t what worries me sweetpea, I just miss you guys all the time.” Steve smiled softly, resting his free hand on Rosie’s shoulder.

“We know, mom tells us all the time.” Rosie patted his hand, grabbing her bag from the floor.

All three kids slipped out of the truck, waving behind themselves as they headed inside the school. They’d made friends, but no one ever usually came over to their house.

It wasn’t because Steve was opposed to people knowing that his kids attended the school, it was that the kids were respecting his personal space, his privacy. Being an Avenger had taken a lot from him, and being in his house was the one place no one could bother him.

Steve grabbed his phone, dialing a number he’d know by heart even without the eidetic memory.

“Babe, they’ve been out of the car for two minutes, come home already.” Krista’s voice was soothing, a gentle reminder of what he’d go home to.

“You know how I get when they start school.” Steve glanced at himself in the rearview mirror.

The gray he’d started to notice when the twins were toddlers had slowly started to make it’s way over his entire head, even going as far as making its way into his beard.

He’d accepted it after a couple of years, knowing there was nothing he could do to prevent his aging. Then again, Bucky was in the same boat as him, though the gray seemed to affect him more in his beard rather than his hair.

Y/N, and Krista had started calling them silver foxes, much to the kids dismay. Apparently there’s nothing worse than hearing your mother call your father sexy. They of course didn’t care choosing to annoy the twins, Haley, Becca, and Sammy all the time.

Steve took the long route home, enjoying the scenery that was New York almost absentmindedly. It’d been a long time since he’d been able to just drive away without a real destination in mind. Sure, he was going home to the dogs and Krista, but right now he was simply enjoying the drive.

Maybe he could pick up breakfast for them, something they hadn’t had in a while, a nice treat to distract him from the kids being at school all day.

“Sir, your wife has texted a few times over the past few minutes, it seems urgent.” Steve felt his heart jump into his throat.

“Can you read the texts?” Steve gripped the steering wheel tighter, palms sweating as he stared out the windshield.

Krista:Babe, are you taking the long way home again? You know how I feel when you do that.

Krista:Hey, there was a package delivered, but there’s no note, were you expecting something?

Krista:Steven Grant, there is something inside the box, and I swear to god if you’re not home in the next five minutes.

Krista:If this is a prank you’re sleeping on the couch for a month! “Would you like me to send a reply?” Friday’s voice sounded far away, almost as if she was talking inside of a tunnel.

“Tell her I’ll be home in two minutes.” Steve pressed down on the gas pedal, the speedometer needle rising much higher than he’d ever driven in the truck before.

It could handle the speed no problem, but he wasn’t about to risk anything when it came to his wife’s safety.

Cap and Grant were most likely watching the door intently, even in their old age they were determined to keep the house safe whenever Steve was out of the house. Right now though, he needed to protect them no matter what. They weren’t as spry as they once were, even if Steve could say the same for himself.

He pulled into the driveway haphazardly, parking the truck before jumping out and running over to where the box was laying in front of the door.

Krista had been correct, the box was definitely moving, but there didn’t seem to be anything dangerous about it, no toxic gas oozing out, or any kind of bomb.

“What the hell?” Steve knelt down, gently prying open the top of the box, coming face to face with what seemed to be a German Shepherd puppy. The dog was small, smaller than even Grant was when they adopted him.

He pulled the puppy out carefully, checking for any kind of note to give him an answer as to why there was a dog on his front steps. Besides what looked to be a blanket, there was nothing indicating as to why there was a small puppy on his porch.

“Doll? Do you know anyone whose dog was having puppies?” Steve grabbed the box before nudging his way inside.

“No, cause all of our friends either don’t have animals, or have cats.” Krista stepped around the couch slowly, almost nervously.

Cap came over to sniff the small pup, snuffling when he realized it was another dog. Grant on the other hand was ready to play with him, even if Steve was reluctant to set him down.

“There was no note or anything, he was just kind of sitting out there.” Steve bundled up the pup closer to his chest, frowning when he realized they were shivering.

Krista cooed softly, stroking her fingers over their fur.

“They’re so small, was Grant this small when we got him?” Steve knew immediately she was going to want to keep him, and who was he to deny her? Considering the dog had been placed in their laps essentially.

The other two dogs walked away after a few moments, seeming to realize Steve wasn’t going to let the small dog play with them, at least not yet.

“He’s not underfed, just maybe still growing.” Steve was afraid he’d accidentally hurt the small pup, listening to the soft whines he was letting out.

“Let’s take him to the vet, see if there’s anything wrong with him first.” Krista grabbed any necessities before leading Steve, who was still holding the puppy, out to the truck.

Sure it would’ve been easier to have Friday do a quick scan to check for any abnormalities, or fleas, but they needed to be absolutely certain. Plus, if they’d planned on keeping him, there were plenty of different things to get first.

“God, he’s so small.” Steve glanced down at the pup, noticing how he’d started to burrow himself into Krista’s arms.

Maybe he was scared, of the world, of going somewhere else he wasn’t entirely sure about. The only conclusion Steve could really come to, was that he was curious.

The vet was all too happy to take them back once they arrived, examining the puppy for any fleas, or diseases he might have. He was a trooper through everything, even when the vet mentioned shots.

Well, he may have whined for a brief moment when the needle came into his sights. Steve wasn’t even a fan of needles, and he was a supersoldier.

“From what I can tell he seems to be in perfect health, no fleas, no rabies, not even a hint of anything negative. You said he was dropped on your doorstep?” The vet seemed confused, but also concerned for any of the possible brothers or sisters.

Steve couldn’t tear his gaze away from the pup, curiosity getting the better of him. Would it really be so bad if he had any siblings, another dog to add to the family?

“Steve, don’t you dare.” Krista wasn’t so much glaring at Steve, as she was staring him down slightly disappointed.

“C’mon, Cap needs someone to play with at home.” Steve wasn’t afraid to use his own puppy eyes, knowing it worked every time.

She sighed softly, running a hand through her hair. The dog was in good health, and Cap could use the exercise right now.

“Don’t tell the kids about him just yet, that’s all I’m asking.” Krista stepped over to the pup, fingers dug into his coarse fur.

Steve smiled, content that they’d be able to give this puppy a forever home, even with three rambunctious teenagers.

“How hard could it be anyway?” They’d taken care of three kids all under the age of five at once, this would be a cake walk.

3 ½ Months Later Steve ran after Sarge, nearly skidding across the floor as the puppy sprinted into the kitchen. Krista paid neither of them any mind, stirring together the pie mixture she’d been working on all morning.

“Gotcha!” Steve held Sarge up in the air, laughing when the puppy wiggled and barked.

“You know, it’s christmas morning and the most you’ve done is be outdone by a dog, again.” Krista snickered, pouring the mixture into the pie crust next to her.

Steve scoffed, setting Sarge down onto the ground. No one else had known they’d gotten another dog, everyone more concerned with how Cap was doing. His muzzle was spotted with gray, matching Steve’s own beard and hair.

“The kids are all in the dining room, probably texting everyone to see when they’re coming over.” Steve stepped over to Krista, arms wrapped around her waist as she hummed happily.

Steve knew the first people to arrive were going to be Bucky and his family, they always came almost an hour early. Nothing with being punctual.

“Gifts are all wrapped and ready to be handed out when everyone’s here, though I don’t think Cap’s gonna be up for much fun today.” It was pretty obvious that he chose to relax more often, laying in his bed while Sarge ran around the house.

They’d lost Grant the year prior, he’d given them plenty of love for the years he was on the earth, and everyone was grateful to have spent time with him.

“He’s getting old, but at least the kids were able to grow up alongside him.” Steve didn’t want to ever have to say goodbye to his best friend.

Cap was the best thing to happen to Steve, he was the reason Steve had found the love of his life and gotten married. Three kids sitting together in the dining room, laughing at whatever one of them had seen. This was truly his life.

“Can you really believe that they’re going to be graduating next year?” Krista sighed softly, running a hand through her hair, it was a nervous habit she’d picked up after dealing with three teens.

“I honestly can’t, but we knew they were going to graduate eventually. They’re gonna go off and do big things with their lives, make us proud.” Steve smiled softly, pressing a kiss to her cheek before straightening once more.

Everyone began to arrive quicker than Steve anticipated, the house soon buzzing with activity as everyone snacked on finger foods and passed out gifts to everyone.

“Alright, I just want to say thank you everyone for coming, I’m sure the kids loved their gifts since they’re all preoccupied.” Everyone chuckled, Tony playfully scoffing where he sat by Pepper.

“We’re all family, even if we aren’t blood relatives you’re all my family.” Steve raised his glass, sitting back down beside Krista on the couch.

The holidays used to be a tough time for Steve, Bucky included. Times were tough, people fighting on nearly a daily basis. T’Challa and Shuri had helped Bucky become the man he was today, someone with a family that loved him dearly.

Steve had never pictured himself having a wife and children, always worried about the next mission that came his way. When his best friend Cap was practically dropped into his lap he couldn’t complain, there were more important things to worry about.

“I gotta admit, even after all these Christmases, no present beats getting Cap.” Steve patted his head gently, watching the way he slumped against his very loved dog bed.

“I’d say the same thing, he’s been such an amazing part of this family.” Krista reached down, running her nails across his back gently.

Cap’s tail wagged almost lazily, enjoying the attention he was getting.

“I just hope Sarge doesn’t bother him too much, I don’t think he’d be able to handle too much play time.” Steve frowned slightly, Cap was laying around more often than not lately.

“He’s nearly twenty years old, I think Sarge will get the hint after a few tries.” Sarge was currently lounging by Bucky and Y/N, enjoying his belly rubs that Bucky gave him.

The party simmered down after dinner, guests leaving in small groups until the last ones to leave were Tony and Pepper.

“Good to see you again Cap, Steve.” Tony nodded to Steve before stepping out of the house.

Pepper was already waiting for him, Morgan playing on her phone in the back seat. Steve waited until they drove off before going inside, assessing the damage of the living room.

Sam and Bucky had helped clean up before heading out, mentioning that they had early mornings and needed to be on the road. Steve wasn’t one to complain, they hosted Christmas in their home every year anyway.

“Don’t stay up too late, the kids are already in bed.” Krista pressed a kiss to his cheek, before heading up to their bedroom.

Steve took a deep breath, getting into the mindset to deep clean before crawling into bed.

Cap followed him around for a few minutes before deciding Steve wasn’t doing anything fun and lying down once more. Sarge joined him after a while, curling up by Cap’s side and promptly falling asleep.

Steve finished cleaning at nearly one in the morning, shutting off the lights before heading up to bed.

His life was perfect, it didn’t matter what had happened in the past, everything in that moment was perfect. And it was all thanks to his best friend, Captain.

Captain “Cap” the dog 2019-2039

#steve rogers #steve rogers fic #steve rogers and his dog #steve rogers fandom #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers au #steve rogers fluff #christmas fluff #marvel #tony stark #pepper potts #sam wilson #bucky barnes

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queenangst · 5 years ago

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... fluffy prompts you say? *stands up* My Time Has Come: 1) Aizawa & Yagi bonding over being surrogate fathers for the class. 2) Mic teases Aizawa about basically being Shinsou's pseudo dad, realizes how serious the feelings are when Aizawa reacts too seriously, and shows his support for his (friend? Boyfriend?) by trying to get to know Shinsou better. 3) It's not safe for the kids to go home over summer vacation so the teachers conspire to bring summer vacation to the kids -Fluffy

PROMPT: It’s not safe for the kids to go home over summer vacation so the teachers conspire to bring summer vacation to the kids.

for my 30 min fic challenge / send a prompt, and i’ll write you a fic in 30 mins / read more: ‘30 min fics’ tag | commission me!

sunburst [read on AO3]

“You don’t understand,” Shouta says, wanting to be anywhere but here. “We cannot do this. I physically cannot do this.”

“Unfortunately—or rather fortunately,” All Might interrupts, smiling, “the principal’s already approved this. He said it would be, a… how did he phrase it, Yamada?”

“A good bonding exercise!” Hizashi’s grinning, sly like a cat. “Shouta, it’s gonna be so fun, I promise.”

“Pool party,” Nemuri calls. “Ooh, do you think any of the kids will let me do their nails? Or their hair?”

“You can do mine,” All Might says, bemused, and Nemuri beams.

They all look at Shouta. Shouta wants to leave the room, but Hizashi’s already blocked the door with a chair for such a reaction.

Shouta sighs. He’s been fighting a losing fight ever since Hizashi burst into the teacher’s lounge shouting and filled to the brim with terrible ideas.

But they’re all just looking at him, and Shouta wants to wipe those grins off their faces before he develops a severe allergy.

“I’m not helping,” Shouta tells them. Nemuri and Hizashi high-five like they’re middle schoolers. All Might leans back in his chair, satisfied, and coughs softly into his hand.

Two days later, sequestered in the bathroom with a pack of water balloons and a bucket, Shouta has been roped into helping. It’s a class water balloon fight—which means there will be water everywhere . Shouta’s only been in one when he was younger, and the only joy he’d gotten out of it was sneaking up and smashing water balloons on his friends’ unsuspecting heads, watching them sputter helplessly.

He finishes filling the last one and ties it off. Before Shouta leaves, he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Unlike his coworkers, he hasn’t bothered to change into more ‘summery’ clothes, and he definitely hasn’t let go of his capture weapon.

This is an opportunity for fun and games for everyone except for him. There’s still bags under his eyes. He’s fine with letting the kids relax—goodness knows they need a break—but Shouta doesn’t. He can’t. Someone has to watch out for everyone.

That’s why they’re all stuck at U.A. anyway. A warning about U.A. students being a possible target, at least for the time being, means they’re staying in the dorms for a few weeks while the situation’s monitored. Even if it is summer vacation. While Class 1-A has been playing darts and hide-and-seek, Shouta has been in and out of meetings, one hand on his weapon at all times. Instant alerts to his phone. Going through security measures with the other teachers.

His kids are waiting for him outside, crowded in a big group and chattering excitedly. Shouta feels his mouth twitch, but he tampers down the warm feeling in his chest and sets the bucket on the ground.

“Alright!” Hizashi cheers. “So, um… free-for-all?”

Shouta scans the perimeter. Nothing out of place. The dorms are close by; they can run back in minutes if anything happens, and Shouta will bring up the rear to make sure everyone gets inside. He counts every student. They’re all here.

Shouta retreats to the nearby shade of a building, where All Might has pulled a few chairs out. All Might’s dressed in a loose button-down shirt that’s covered in little pineapples. As Hizashi referees, Shouta drops into an open chair.

“Enjoying yourself yet?”

Shouta snorts. “That’s not my job.”

All Might props his chin on one hand, looking a little pensive as he glances past Shouta at the laughing kids. The former hero sighs.

“May I ask you something, Aizawa?”

Shouta scuffs his foot on the ground. “Hm.”

“I spent a long time being the Symbol of Peace,” All Might muses, fingers tracing over the chair’s arm, “and I am— proud to pass the torch onto these young heroes. I think they’ll be great.”

“That’s not a question,” Shouta points out, but All Might waves a hand.

“I kept fighting until I couldn’t.” He glances down. “And then I got up, and kept going, because I thought the world needed me. And then I kept fighting, because I thought I was the only person who could, until I really couldn’t anymore. And I am going to spend the rest of my life like this.”

All Might reaches a hand over and wraps it around Shouta’s wrist. He was a hero long before Shouta was; nearly two decades longer. He’d been fighting villains before Shouta was born, even, with a world of difference between them. All Might had created that world.

“I regret it, a little.”

Shouta jolts and turns, surprised. All Might chuckles.

“I don’t regret saving people. I don’t regret bearing the burden so no one would have to. I did what I thought the world needed,” All Might says, and his gaze drifts again. Shouta turns his head, and he knows All Might is searching through the crowd of tangled students for Midoriya. Midoriya’s smiling, harder than Shouta has ever seen him, as he and Uraraka tag team Iida. “But I’ve been learning, recently, that there is a lot that I have missed because I did not let myself have anything.”

Shouta doesn’t want to say anything. Hizashi’s said the same shit; Nemuri’s said the same shit; hell, Nedzu had said something along the same lines. Please take care of yourself. Please just stop running for one minute, one second.Shouta doesn’t know how to explain he can’t.

“I have never known— I thought, there was a time I thought I wasn’t going to be happy again.” All Might rubs his eyes with his free hand, but he’s still holding onto Shouta. “But I am. Very much so.”

Shouta sighs. “Can we not have this conversation now?”

“It is the best time to,” All Might says softly. “I think you’re a wonderful hero. But I think you’re also a person, and you are alive. And living doesn’t only exist in making it another day, though sometimes that’s the only thing we can manage. Sometimes you have to…”

“Enjoy summer?” Shouta quips. “You know I’m allergic to the sun.”

“You were in sunlight a few minutes ago,” All Might teases. He lets go of Shouta’s wrist. “You can’t fool me.”

Shouta grumbles, but the winding pressure that’s always building in him eases. Slightly—only just barely—but Shouta feels like it is monumental.

And then he’s smacked in the side of his face by a water balloon.

Water explodes around him. The impact doesn’t hurt, but Shouta hadn’t even seen it coming; water seeps into his clothes, in his hair. He stands up. All Might guffaws, a loud booming laugh.

“Which one of you threw that?”

“Not me,” twenty voices call at once.

“It was totally me,” Hizashi yells. “Listeners, I’m the pro hero Present Mic, and this is me authorizing you to throw water balloons at Aizawa-sensei over there. And All Might!”

“You don’t want to see me in a water balloon fight,” All Might threatens, taking the opportunity to run forward at a surprising speed and scoop a few from the ground. The students closest to him, Kaminari and Sero, shriek and flee.

Hizashi raises an eyebrow at Shouta.

Shouta frowns.

“Uh oh, Mic-sensei,” Ojiro calls, “he doesn’t look happy.”

“He’s never happy,” Hizashi jokes, but the words make Shouta pause. He’s never happy.

He feels his hair lift slightly off the back of his neck.

“Better start running,” Nemuri calls from somewhere in the distance, cackling.

“I’ll show you,” Shouta says, and unloops his capture weapon to snag a few water balloons. The first one hits Hizashi, the next All Might, and the last Asui, who croaks in surprise.

The class starts moving again, coming back to life, and Shouta feels another water balloon hit him before he can dodge. And he decides it’s an attack he’ll let hit.

Sometime after they’ve run out of water balloons, under the sun, Shouta looks out and wonders when he’d stopped waiting for something to go wrong and started smiling.

#asks #aizawa #present mic #midnight #all might #class 1a #bnha #bnha fanfic #my fanfic #30 min fics #quarantine content time #anonymous #fluffy anon

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onthevirgeofdestruction · 4 years ago

Text

35 Q’s for Fanfic Writers

From this post

I’m having a shitty, rude alter-y, crap night so I’m just going to answer all of these to distract myself and focus and to not bother anybody just making my own post and putting it under the cut btw, notice to anyone not aware: since I’m moving I won’t likely be updating anything until I’m done doing so.

1. From one to five stars, how would you rate your writing? (No downplaying yourself!) 3/5? Could use more editing and description and can be weirdly paced.

2. Why do you write fanfiction? Because it’s better than focusing on pain 24/7.

3. What do you think makes your writing stand out from other works? I don’t seem to have a specific narrative voice that people recognize but I’m pretty proud of mostly organic dialogue.

4. Are there any writers that inspire you? as a rule i never look up to anybody for inspiration but there’s some stuff in my ao3 bookmarks I fawn over.

5. What’s the fic you’re most proud of? Right now, none of them. It changes normally, anyway. If get too proud then I’d get my ass kicked by RSD if someone didn’t like it so it’s safer this way

6. What element of writing do you find comes easily? Dialogue.

7. What element of writing do you struggle with most? Organic description, poetic language kind of stuff. I can paint a scene but I’m not so great with bring out out a feeling with description alone.

8. Which character(s) do you find easiest to write? Janus and Virgil are probably tied. They both have things I struggle with but I don’t have to go back and do much adjusting of language and tone with them. Though admittedly my Virgil is signifigantly more foul-mouthed than canon and I tend to prefer pre-AA feral asshole Virgil.

9. Which character(s) do you find most difficult to write? Patton. I write him the least, so people can probably tell. I love Patton, I really do, but it’s so hard to keep away from fanon Patton.

10. What’s your favorite genre to write for? Angst w/ H/C obviously. Or if you’re talking about regular book genres, Fantasy. I fucking love fantasy world building.

11. Who or what do you find yourself writing about most? Trauma. I blame Daeram. As if Ayri isn’t a giant Angst Demon.

12. Tell us about a WIP you’re excited about. Slopes. I’m really into it. I’ve got three one shots running right now. Patrons can read the first part of the unnamed cat remus one, there’s also a coffeeshop au tropey nonsense one like eglantine & lycoris, but Slopes is addiction angst. Mmmmm. Virgil is addicted to coke and alcohol and will listening to his friends even be in time? Who knows, especially not me, but there’s already over 30k.

13. First fandom you ever wrote for? InuYasha. Or was it Harry Potter? Or shit, The Blue Sword? Fuck, I’ve been writing for a long time, I really have no idea.

14. What’s your favorite fandom to write for? Sanders Sides. The characters are the perfect dynamic for writing since they exist in balance of each other and the popular, easy to project on archetypes featured are incredibly fun to do basically any scenario with.

15. What’s the weirdest fandom you’ve ever written for? Weird storywise? Kingdom Hearts? I can’t even follow the plot anymore. Weird Fandomwise? Sanders Sides. Its simultainiously the fluffiest and angstiest nonsense at the same time.

16. Any guilty pleasure trope(s)? Vampires. Gay ones. Gay Vampires. I also love calm tol and angy smol.

17. A trope you’ll never, ever write for. Any tropes that normalize incredibly toxic behaviour or tropes that are inherantly ableist, but I can’t think of any.

18. Wildest fic you’ve ever written? Incorrigible continues to be complete nonsense.

19. Do you prefer canon-compliant, AUs, or something in-between? AUs. I mean closest I even have is canon-divergence other than a single short.

20. Gen fic or shippy stuff? I like it when there is gay nonsense along with a plot that is treated as more important than the relationship the most. But I like both. There’s more shippy stuff in tss so i read more shipping action by default.

21. Favorite pairing to write for? (platonic or romantic!) Anxceit/Sleepxiety, but in general, give me darksides or give me death/j

22. Do you listen to anything while you write? Almost everything I write has a special playlist I listen to to help me write it, but otherwise I listen to my Nyan playlist, an alter is picking the tunes, or a voidfam playlist. I never have music off. When my internet is down I just listen to the songs I own or Anxiety’s theme on loop.

23. Do you prefer prompts and challenges, or completely independent ideas? I’m fine with all of them. I love working with prompts but I tend to deviate. And I’ve never done a challenge since I can’t do deadlines and bad things happen bingo never sent me a card and I applied three times.

24. One-shots or multi-chaptered works? I am generally multi-chaptered stuff, but I’ve been working on a few one-shots lately that are much longer than most one shots.

25. Have you ever daydreamed about side adventures/spin-offs from your fic? Tell us about them! I was originally thinking of doing some little 13-year-old Dreaming!Roman (y’know, the one with a job) shorts but it turns out I just had an alter of that little bastard and that’s why I inexplicably know more about him then I ever even considered. I still might do them after Dreaming is done. But that’s paced so slowly who knows when that might happen. Otherwise I put stuff in my notes and just do shorts of it if I’m like “oh you know what’s cool???” but since I can’t daydream maybe this question doesn’t apply to me.

26. Is there anything you’ve wanted to write, but you’ve been too scared to try? I want to do more autism stuff, and I’ve had it demanded a few times, but I’m scared of being that explict about it for some reason. Possibly because I might be, possibly because I’m scared of doing it wrong even though I’ve accidentally coded multiple characters autistic. I’m scared of explictly tagging them as such, too.

27. What’s the nicest comment you’ve ever received? That I can remember off the top of my head? I’m going with one from @a-genz-with-trauma-and-kins. It really helped me out and was just so kind and literally the best christmas gift I got in 2020.

28. How well do you handle criticism when it comes to your writing? I can handle it alright but Daeram is a little fucking pissbaby about it. Constructive criticism helps people get better, so I appreciate it. I can’t handle critism that is incomplete, though. “i just don’t get it” or “I don’t know I don’t like it” kind of things. If I can’t understand the why to fix it then things get out of control. And then I spiral and RSD for like four days minimum. If it came from an anon or a troll, too, It might not bother me for as long. Things that are just like “this is shit and you should feel bad” just make me laugh. Couldn’t even bother to read it long enough to insult me proper? I don’t care.

29. Have you ever gone outside of your comfort zone for a fic? How did it turn out? I have a few times. Mostly in shorts and prompts, I think. I think they turned out okay. They’re not particularly inspired or anything.

30. Tooth-rotting fluff or merciless angst? Depends on my mood. Am I triggered? give me the fluff. Am I vibin? Angst.

31. Do you have any OCs? Tell us about them! Fuck, fam, no, I can’t, I have so many. I have multiple original stories and some of them have very large casts and like holy fuck. Or do you mean in Sanders Sides fandom? Um, Morgan and Thorn in PD. The lesbian and her himbo dynamic. I love them. They’re dorks. Morgan is strong person with sharp tongue and soft romantic heart and Thorn is just so kind and so dumb and so exciteable he’s like a puppy. They were just filler characters and I got attached to them. Felton even gets redemption for being an ass later in PD, like oof i never intended to include so much OC content, especially for names I just picked randomly.

32. Summarize a random fic of yours in 10 words or less. nope I’m doing all of them because these are fun plea for my new self: 2 gay vampires, 4 humans, 1 braincell dreaming while I wake: trauma child needs therapy and so do you break: big oof, oh dragons, oh why, go virgil go rebuild: virgil is so not okay there’s more virgil to deal painful death: gay teens drink themselves into a new religion stargazing: whoops we didn’t realize people actually cared whole castle: everyone will throw down for kid!patton, even you incorrigible: found family with a shot of psychological horror and crack dangerous instincts: wholesome crime syndacite action slopes: addict gets mugged and thinks that’s just fine with him conflagration: logan avoids everything ever like a champ cat!remus: bored fae shifts gay pining from one person to another caffeine cyptids: caffinated gay panic goes faster than regular gay panic eglantine & lycoris: more tropes than you can toss a shoe at storytime: overpowered virgil also overreacts literally always

33. Is there anything you wish your audience knew about your writing or writing process? an alter and I write together and I have absolutely no idea what’s going to happen, what I’m writing about, or even what year it is. I often don’t even remember what I wrote. There’s no outline. I have an idea and I pick things at random for it. There’s just notes and an evil gleam in a demon’s eye. The only reason I know more than readers is because I take a long time to edit and some of these stories have fucking alters up in my head who can tell me things. Daeram tells me nothing. The writing demon supposedly has all this knowledge but I have absolutely no clue because he does not talk to me, he just fronts and slams out 9k in a few hours or we cofront to write and I’m like “oh no she didn’t” while typing

34. Copy and paste an excerpt you’re particularly fond of. i’m fond of the entire painful death series and I tried to find something I really liked without spoilers in stargazing and I couldn’t so here’s a random thing from incorrigble: “So, what do you do with your friends?” Patton continued on with a megawatt smile. “Grand larceny,” Virgil deadpanned and glared at Patton, who was taken aback. Remy and Andy just broke out laughing while Virgil tentatively sipped his still-too-hot-cocoa.

35. Ramble about any fic-related thing you want! slopes my dudes slopes i have learned so much about cocaine! like wow! I thought for a minute it was going to end with MCD around 30k but it swtiched from whump to hurt/comfort and I still don’t know if it’s going to be MCD but look at that funky little coke/alcohol addict go, it’s a medical wonder he’s alive! It’s not like there’s what seems to be a little talked about interaction between alcohol and cocaine that causes a toxic chemical to build up in the liver which can result in liver failure and sudden death at basically any moment! Which is part of why it may result in MCD but this time no ghosts! maybe it’ll be h/c with whump elements or maybe it’ll be whump with h/c elements we can’t know for sure

#ayri writes #tw drug mention

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malecsecretsanta · 4 years ago

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Merry Christmas, yorit1!

For @yorit1, I'm so happy I was able to write you this fic and I hope it makes you smile and you enjoy it. I've never written a high school au, but I wanted to keep it fluffy and funny. Wishing you a happy holidays; stay warm, grab your favorite warm drink, and read to your heart's content.

Read On AO3

*****

I Caught You Staring (And Now I Can't Look Away)

Alexander Lightwood was different. He was nothing like his brother, Jace who was the star quarterback of the football team and a bit of an egomaniac at times. He wasn’t like his sister, Isabelle who was free-spirited and made a statement with her fashion choices and opinions.

No, Alec was quiet. He tried to take up as little space as possible no matter how much room he was given. Despite his towering stature he tended to hunch unconsciously. Like he was afraid he was always taking up too much room.

But he was stubborn and terse to the majority of people and doted on his family. He stood up for others and advocated for LGBTQ+ rights at school and outside it. He took in those who wormed their way into his heart with nary a thought but kept them away from knowing him besides the front he presented.

He was an array of contradictions that only made him more interesting in Magnus’ eyes.

And he stared. At Magnus. A lot.

Initially, Magnus hadn’t even noticed Alec’s gaze. He’d only realized it when Ragnor and Catarina had brought it to his attention.

“You’re being watched,” Catarina commented offhandedly, taking a bite of her salad.

Magnus smirked. “I’m always being watched,” he purred.

A groan echoed beside him. “I swear, if your head gets any bigger they’ll be no way to hide it,” Ragnor groused.

“I refuse to have this negativity within my eyesight.” Magnus made a shooing gesture. “Remove yourself at once.”

Catarina giggled at their banter before clearing her throat. “I’m being serious, though. You’ve been being watched by mister brooding over there.” She inconspicuously pointed to somewhere diagonally to them.

Not one to shy away from attention, Magnus whipped his head around to try and meet the gaze of his admirer. His eyebrows shot up when he met the gaze of Alexander Lightwood.

Alec seemed to have met his eyes too because his face reddened. The boy gave him a timid wave before ducking his head to gaze at his food, seeming to ignore the other occupants at his table.

Magnus would have continued looking at the bashful boy if his vision wasn’t suddenly obstructed. He squawked and turned a glower to Ragnor. “Are you really trying to cover my face up with a paper bag right now?”

His best friend grinned. “You were staring.”

“He was staring.”

“You wouldn’t have even noticed his staring if Cat hadn’t informed you.”

Conceivably, there was some truth to that. He wasn’t short on admirers so it didn’t surprise him that he hadn’t noticed one person’s attention.

He was curious to see how this would all play out.

It happened at a party.

A Magnus Bane party.

Magnus Bane had risen to popularity with these outlandish parties he threw while his father was away on his business trips. They were grand with drinks flowing in red solo cups and music blasting so loudly that they had the cops called on them more than once.

Magnus could easily party the night away. Immerse himself in the sweaty, hormonally charged throngs of his fellow student body. Ordinarily, he would.

But Alec actually came to this one and that wholly couldn’t be ignored.

The boy still hadn’t acted on what Magnus assumed was attraction to him. He merely continued to covertly admire Magnus from afar. The few times they’d talked, Magnus had reduced the boy to scrambled word-vomit. Alexander was bright red and Magnus was beyond flattered.

Here under the colored lights, the boy was a wallflower if he'd ever seen one. He stuck close to the wall and people watched with a dour expression. Magnus had seen people more excited about midterms than Alexander looked at one of his parties. And that wouldn't do at all.

Optimistically, this conversation would go better than their previous ones.

He saddled up to him with an extra cup of whatever brew Catarina had concocted and a charming smile. "Staying over here all by your lonesome, pretty boy?" Magnus inquired lightly.

Alec lurched beside him and looked at him bug-eyed. "What?" He asked.

"Well, you're denying the party-goers a fine specimen while you hunker to the shadows." Magnus couldn't tell if the boy was blushing with the colored lights gleaming across the room but his expression seemed flattered if not terribly shy.

It was adorable.

"I'm uh—My siblings wanted to come."

Magnus hummed thoughtfully and looked around the room until he spotted Alec's sister dancing amongst the crowd. "Ah, Izzy seems to be having a blast." He turned to Alec with a smirk. "I'm assuming Jace and Clary are making out somewhere around here."

Alec groaned and thumped his head against the wall. "I didn't even want to come." His eyes widened, and he jerked his head back to Magnus with his hands raised. "Not—Not that it isn't a great party because it is uh—everyone loves them and I—" he sighed and shrugged his shoulders, "Parties have never been my scene and it's just easier to stay on the sidelines."

"Perhaps," Magnus conceded, "or maybe you just need to keep trying." He handed the extra drink to him. "Start with something to drink. It'll do wonders to relax those tense shoulders of yours." And what gorgeously broad shoulders they were.

Alec shook his head and pushed the cup away. "Can't, I'm the designated driver."

Magnus arched a brow and poured the new drink into his original cup. "More for me, I suppose." He took a sip, ignoring the fire that licked his throat on the way down. "In the meantime, we might as well see if we can entice you into enjoying the party,” he set the cups down on a random table and held out his hand, “dance with me."

It wasn't a question and Alec recognized that but still, he shook his head. "Unless you want me to accidentally break your toes, I’m gonna… I'll just stay here."

"Pretty boy, I taught Ragnor how to dance." It'd been his own personal hell for half the summer but Ragnor had gotten significantly better at dancing enough so that he didn't look like he was suffering a seizure when the desire to dance struck him. "I'm sure I can teach you something."

Alec swallowed and looked around the room for anything that might help him. "I'm really not a good dancer," Alec insisted even as Magnus started to coax him from the wall. "I'll look stupid which means you'll look stupid."

Magnus waved him off. "Practically everyone looks silly when they dance, so you won't be alone there." He seized Alec’s hand and pulled him away from the wall. “Give it a try for five minutes, and we’ll see how it goes.”

Alec let himself be dragged to the dancefloor with consternation. “Five minutes and that’s it.”

This conversation was going lightyears better than their first few conversations. “If you want to stop, that is.”

He let go of Alec’s hand to grab ahold of Alec’s hips. “We’ll start with a sway, literally everyone can sway,” Magnus instructed as he started to sway his hips with Alec’s. He quickly directed their swaying to match the beat of the music. “See? Just gotta listen to the music; your body should pick up on the beat.”

A nervous laugh bubbled from somewhere in Alec’s throat as he bopped his head. “Yeah—okay, now what?”

“Arms, you don’t want to just flap them about.” You could knock someone out by accident if you did that. “Though if that’s your style, we can work with that.”

Alec raised his arms, shifting them side-to-side like muscled windshield wipers. “This?”

Magnus threw his head back and laughed. “God no, that’s—“ Magnus dissolved into another fit of giggles, waving a hand at Alec, “I’m not laughing at you, I promise. I just—I wasn’t expecting that.”

Alec scowled. “Then show me how to do it,” Alec commanded.

The scowl on the boy’s face resembled more of a pout than anything scary so Magnus figured the boy wasn’t too bothered by his laughter.

“You have to loosen up. You’re too tense!” Magnus ran his hands down Alec’s arms, relishing the shiver that ran through Alec’s body. “Relax your shoulders.”

“They are relaxed.”

He quirked an eyebrow and massaged at Alec’s shoulders feeling the tight muscles jump and release under his ministration. “Darling, I’ve seen assholes looser than your shoulders.”

Alec wheezed, his face twisting up, and squeezed his eyes shut. “That’s—why did you have to say it like that?” Alec groaned with a snort like he couldn’t decide whether to be upset or laugh at Magnus’ comment.

A Cheshire smile spread across his face. “I’m not wrong.”

Alec flushed, his eyes settling everywhere except Magnus’. “Well, I’m relaxed now.”

“Good, now just watch me for a moment.” He winked, biting his lower lip. “Try to keep your gaze virtuous.”

The laughter that tumbled out of Alec was beautiful and something he’d never heard before. His laughter echoed between them, somewhere caught between rough and warm. He’d never heard the boy laugh before.

But he wanted to hear it forever.

Magnus swayed his body, gyrating his hips and moving his hands up his body, letting them move with him. Lidded eyes gazed at Alec who’d stopped dancing altogether and was just staring at him with a familiar intensity.

“Feel free to admire me.”

Alec grinned and shook his head, already miles past his original comfort levels. “Thanks for the consent.” He crossed his arms and gave him a look. “You want a complete too? I feel like your fishing for one.”

“I very much am fishing for compliments,” Magnus said, “I’m just waiting for the hook to pick some up.”

“Normally people don’t admit to fishing for compliments.”

“Normal is subjective, Alexander.” He beckoned Alec over. “Now come join me, let that body talk.”

Alec shook his head again as he walked back over. “You’re so weird.” But his voice was husky belaying his real feelings on Magnus’ behavior. He clumsily joined Magnus and was soon following the beat more or less.

Magnus had thought this would be an innocent folly – just figuring the other boy out – but he found he was having fun. Alec's inexperience and awkwardness were endearing, and Magnus couldn’t turn his gaze away.

And he didn't want to.

He wasn't even sure what it was about Alec that drew him in. Magnus lived for partying, standing out, and being unashamedly himself. He wore glitter and sheer shirts that got him dress coded constantly.

Conversely, Alec was an introvert who orbited around the ones he loved. He'd started an archery club and followed all the school rules to an alarming degree. The only thing Magnus had thought stood out to him about Alec was that he was openly gay.

But just from his interactions with the boy tonight had revealed a hidden charm behind that stoic front. He had a laugh that made Magnus' heart skip a beat. His smile lit up the room way more than the assortment of lights did. He could dance only marginally better than Ragnor could now – which wasn’t saying much – but it made Magnus enjoy dancing with him all the more.

Just these observations made him wonder why he’d never noticed Alexander Lightwood before.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Alec interrupted, nudging him in the side.

Magnus shook his head from his previous thoughts. “My thoughts are worth plenty more than a penny,” Magnus sniffed.

Alec rolled his eyes. “Offer still stands.”

Magnus closed the distance between them. “You surprised me.”

“I surprised you?”

“Don’t sound so shocked.” Magnus put his arms around Alec’s neck and slowed their dancing down to a sweeping sway. “You’re more than I expected when I came over to you.”

Alec frowned. “More...?”

He shook his head. “I mean that in the best of ways,” Magnus reassured. “There’s just something about you, Alexander.”

Alec ducked his head down sheepishly. “There’s uh… something about you too.”

Magnus grinned, running his fingers through the short strands of hair at the back of Alec’s head. “Glad we’re on the same page about that.” He chanced a look around the room his eyes zeroing in on the clock before turning back to Alec who was finally looking at him again. “It’s been more than five minutes, still want me to leave?”

Hands grabbed at his hips as Alec leaned his head closer. “Please stay.”

Any quieter and Magnus would’ve missed Alec’s plea, but his grip on Magnus was telling enough. “Only if you’ll keep dancing with me.” Magnus gave Alec an exaggerated pout.

Alec snorted, shaking his head. “Stop being so cute.”

“Can’t, darling,” Magnus sighed, “it’s a curse.”

At this point, Magnus could feel Alec’s breath against his lips. With each moment his restraint grew smaller and smaller. He doubted Alec would gather the courage to mention his feelings. But he wasn’t going to wait for the other boy to make a move first. “Maybe this is the alcohol talking, but I really want to kiss you right now.”

Alec’s breath hitched, and for a second Magnus thought he’d ruined their moment until Alec let out a pleased sigh. “I – you uh… If I let you kiss me,” he paused to gather his thoughts, “You have to let me take you on a date.”

Magnus’ face lit up. “You wanna take me on a date?”

The tips of Alec’s ears practically glowed. “I’d like to.”

“I think,” Magnus drawled, twirling a piece of Alec’s hair, “that would be more than okay.”

The other boy’s mouth gaped and he seemed caught between awe and joy. Alec pressed their foreheads together. “So do I get that kiss now?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

Magnus bumps his nose against Alec’s. “How are you feeling about parties now?” Magnus inquired. He genuinely wanted to know if Alec’s opinion had changed.

Alec hummed thoughtfully before shrugging. “I won’t say I like them, but I got to spend time with you.” He brushed his lips against the corner of Magnus’ mouth. “So if you’re there, I can see the appeal.”

“Sweet talker.”

Magnus closed the distance between them. Alec’s lips were dry and deliciously warm against his. Just like his dancing, Alec’s kiss was inexperienced and their teeth clanked together before they got the right angle. Magnus led the kiss, coaxing Alec’s mouth to move with his own. It was hungry and sweet and profoundly earnest.

It was perfect.

Reluctantly Magnus pulled back to let them both breathe. Alec tried to chase his lips for a moment longer, eyes still closed as if he thought he’d open his eyes and Magnus would disappear. Eventually, Alec did open his eyes, and quiet awe transformed his face.

“Would it be greedy to ask for another?” Alec asked between them, their lips still barely an inch apart.

“Terribly greedy,” Magnus chided with a grin, “But if you take me to that Thai place four blocks from the movie theater I’ll happily give you another.”

Alec laughed, their noses nudging against each other’s. “Promise?”

No answer was needed; his kiss was enough.

#yorit1 #malecsanta20 #*fic20 #*gifts20

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angelic-holland · 5 years ago

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Hang the Stars // TMO imagine

“Because what’s worse than knowing you want something, besides knowing you can never have it?” - James Patterson

“I’ll take care of you.”

“It’s rotten work.”

“Not to me. Not if it’s you.”

- Anne Carson, Euripides

Word Count: 5.5k

Warnings: angst, mentions of murder, mentions of mob activity, fluffy fluff

Summary: Three Months and 14 days. That’s how long Harrison has loved you. That’s how long he’s known he can never have you like he wants you. Three months and 14 days is a dreadfully long time to love someone who will never love him back.

A/N: Hi! This is a little short of the reader’s time with Ian and Harrison and the Irish mob. This can sort of work as a stand alone fic but works better after reading the first 13 chapters of Take Me Out! This is from Harrison’s perspective aka the reader is ‘her’. As always, feedback through reblogs and asks are always appreciated and encouraged if you’re part of my taglist! Let me know what you think about this little piece!

The worst part of falling in love is the pain when you hit the ground.

That isn’t how Harrison feels sitting in the meeting room of Ian’s brownstone when the doorbell rang. He feels calm with the slightest bit of excitement because he’s finally allowed to sit in on meetings.

Nobody rings the doorbell here. All of Ian’s men knocked, a special knock to let Ian know that it was them.

So Harrison sat in his seat right by the head of the table where Ian usually sits while Ian draws a gun, stalking toward the front door.

He can’t see anything, neither can any of the other men in the room, but they can hear her.

At first, Dewey jokes that it’s a girl that Ian knocked up, here to collect child support.

Russell shuts him up with a glare, “probably just a girl scout or something.”

“It’s nine at night,” Harrison says, straining to hear what Ian was saying to whoever was standing at the door.

There’s a shrill cry that makes all of the men at the table widen their eyes.

“Don’t touch me!”

Then Ian’s voice is soothing and attempting to comfort the girl, whoever she may be.

There’s a rumbling and Harrison swears it’s thunder but he can’t help the next words that slip out of his mouth, “everything okay?”

A sob ripples through the near silent house.

Harrison stands up, about to leave the room when Russell stops him.

“This isn’t your business.”

“It might be-,”

“Just wait, patience, boy,” Dewey sneers.

Harrison sits back down, mumbling under his breath about leaving him the fuck alone.

The men sit in silence as they hear Ian walking around the house, making a few phone calls.

“Check in on the place, that’s right, rented to Adeline Park, I want an update by tomorrow morning.”

Adeline Park. Maybe that’s the girl who showed up at the door. It has to be.

Several minutes later, Ian steps back inside the room, trying to push the franticness out of his voice.

“Meeting dismissed, we’ll pick up tomorrow morning. Harrison, go out and get food, real food, fruits and vegetables, shit like that.”

Harrison isn’t going to question it at this point, “right away, boss.”

He stands up and buttons his suit jacket, following the rest of the men out of the house before Ian grabs his arm.

“Don’t let them get you caught up in their rumor mill, I’m taking care of an old friend,” Ian says, voice low so the last of the men exiting the house don’t hear him.

“Course, boss, I’ll be right back.”

Harrison is nosy, it’s not something he’s exactly proud of, but with his job, it comes with the territory.

That’s why he searches for an Adeline Park on Facebook. A dozen or so results show up. He didn’t catch a glimpse of her face, so he scrolls through each result, each profile, wondering if this was the girl who showed up on his bosses doorstep, completely throwing him for a loop.

He buys a lot of food, probably too much, but he had no idea what Ian wanted other than fruits and vegetables, he swears he almost buys out the entire store. After unloading all of the food into the cabinets and fridge, he makes his way upstairs.

He hears Ian and her talking, Adeline, her voice is weak but anxious as Ian tries to soothe her. He almost doesn’t want to interrupt, to break into their precious moment. But Harrison is nosy, so he does anyway.

“It is though, you take bad people and you get rid of them. You kill people who deserve to be killed.”

Harrison’s eyes widen at Ian’s words. So she isn’t just an old flame. Or perhaps she is, Ian’s circle consists mainly of mobsters and murderers. So it’s possible she is a killer and an old flame. What better person for a murderer than another murderer?

Harrison took off his suit jacket, leaning against the door as he watches her, her hair in a messy ponytail, eyes puffy, bruises encircling her throat. He wonders who could hurt someone as beautiful as her.

“Boss.”

“Harrison, she’s going to be staying in the guest room with you for a little bit. Is that okay?”

“Course, boss, groceries are downstairs, all set away.”

“Great, sweetheart, I’ve got to make a few phone calls but if you need anything, Harrison can help you, okay?”

“He’s uh, he’s good?”

Her voice is terrified, it’s a trembling whisper and she doesn’t want Harrison to hear but he does.

“He’s the best,” Ian says before he stands up, giving Harrison a look before leaving him alone with the girl who clearly didn’t trust anyone.

What the fuck is Harrison supposed to do? To say? She reminds him of a scared cat, drawing in on herself as he steps forward into the room completely.

“Hi, uh, name’s Harrison,” He says, wanting to smack himself, he drops his coat on his bed and walks toward her, sticking his hand out.

Right, because the way to look non threatening to her is to stick your hand out when the last man who did that was the one who gave her all of those bruises.

She is hesitant as he holds his hand out, and right before he’s about to drop it, she meekly shakes his hand.

“Y/N.”

So not Adeline.

She drops his hand almost as quickly as she shakes it.

“Well, y/n, you’re free to borrow my clothes anytime, definitely look better on you than me.”

Damn it Harrison.

The last thing this girl wants, or needs, is someone flirting with her.

“Sorry, that was uh, stupid of me.”

She giggles and Harrison feels light headed.

“It’s okay, uh, you been with Ian long?”

“No, a few months. We met while he was back in Ireland.”

“So are you his uh, next in command?” She asks as Harrison begins to get ready for bed.

“Sort of, if I show I can do well under pressure. How much do you know about Ian?”

He’s curious about which part of Ian’s past she’s from.

“Just that he’s the Irish mob leader here, and uh, you’re not Irish.”

Her tone is almost accusatory, like Harrison isn’t supposed to be here. But she digresses, somewhat caging herself off to his response as she sets the plate down and gently touches her neck, wincing as her fingers touch the bruises.

“You shouldn’t, you know, touch that, I can get you some ice if you want, I’ll just go change and then grab an ice pack,” Harrison says, not waiting for a response before gathering up his pajamas and leaving her alone.

Ian is talking downstairs after Harrison changed and he becomes quiet as Harrison enters the kitchen.

“Just grabbing her an ice pack,” Harrison says, grabbing one from the freezer and wrapping it in a dish towel.

“She’s got some problems, Harrison, you won’t be able to fix her.”

“I wasn’t planning on trying to-,”

“It’s okay son, I’m sure you only want to help. But I think she’ll just need time.”

“Oh, sure, of course,” Harrison nods, “but Ian, do you think she’d, I mean, do you know who hurt her?”

Ian shakes his head, “that’s what I’m trying to find out, I haven't seen her in five years. She drove here from fucking Idaho. I guess she didn’t really have anyone else to go to.”

Harrison nods, swallowing the lump in his throat as he makes his way back upstairs. He wonders who could have hurt her so badly she drove across the country to someone she hasn’t seen in over half a decade.

“Hey, I uh, I got you an ice pack,” he says, watching her roll over in the blue sheets, her eyes red, cheeks swollen from crying.

“Thanks,” she mumbles, holding her hand out for the ice.

When he hands it to her, he swears electricity crackles under his fingertips when they touch her hand. She withdraws almost immediately.

“Stop looking at me like that,” she says, turning back toward the wall, not letting Harrison look at her properly as she rests the ice pack against her neck.

“Like what?” Harrison asks, slightly confused as he sits down in his own bed, wanting to give her as much distance as she needs.

“Like I’m a lost puppy someone just kicked to the curb. Like you’re sorry for me, like you’re some guy who sees a girl that’s broken and wants to piece me back together. I’m Humpty fucking Dumpty, you’re not putting me back together again.”

Harrison figures the best thing to do is let her vent.

“I didn’t think you’re Humpty Dumpty.”

“Right, next you’re going to tell me you would never hurt me and that you’d never do anything to put me at risk.”

“I wouldn’t hurt you,” Harrison says, laying down.

“The last person who said that, did this,” she turns and takes away the ice pack, her throat definitely swollen past it’s normal size.

“Listen, you don’t have to tell me about him, whoever did that, but I would never do that, never touch you like that-,”

“Just- don’t make promises you don’t intend to keep.”

The realization that Y/N doesn’t trust him, doesn’t trust anyone, because the man who did that most definitely wasn’t the first person who has hurt her like that, sits on Harrison’s chest like a stack of bricks.

Taking care of her, being her keeper or her babysitter or whatever wasn’t his goal or intention after the first night, but since then, that’s all Harrison has ever done. And he doesn’t mind. He doesn’t mind one bit.

For the first time in his life, Y/N gave Harrison what he felt was a purpose, a reason for being more than his typical self.

And isn’t that the cruelest sort of love? The love you feel for someone so broken that industrial strength glue can’t piece them together, the love that no matter how hard and how fiercely you love, they’ll never be quite able to reciprocate it?

***

There are bad nights, nights where she wakes up screaming for someone, crying out for the person who hurt her. He buries the name in his subconscious, never gaining the courage to ask her about this Tom character who invaded her peaceful sleep.

During the first two weeks she hardly got any sleep, and that keeps Harrison up as well. There are moments when she’ll stare at him and he’d stare right back, her eyes the only thing visible in the dark room. A beacon of hope for someone lost at sea.

And then she climbs into his bed. They’re both restless on this September night, now morning if Harrison is being technical. 2am.

“I uh, I was hoping I might sleep better if I, well, if I sleep next to you,” her voice is soft and her eyes wide as Harrison nods, patting the spot next to him. The bed is small, no doubt that they’d have to lay practically on top of each other to not fall off. So with a gentle nod from Harrison, she curls up next to him, her head on his chest and her legs practically on top of his.

That night Harrison has slept better than he has in years. In fact, Y/N and Harrison looked so peaceful that when Ian went to check on them the next morning, he didn’t wake them up. Finally both of them got a full nights sleep without screaming, without fear of what tomorrow may bring. Finally it seems both of them are at peace.

***

When she kisses Harrison for the first time, about a month after she arrived, he swore he was dreaming. They’ve kissed plenty of times in Harrison’s dreams, but each time he feels like he’s betraying the real Y/N.

They’re lying in bed, Harrison has an arm around her shoulder, only after she gave him explicit permission to do so. She’s cradling his face like it’s a glass vase, her eyes searching for the blooming flowers beneath his fragile exterior. Maybe poppies or brunneras. Nothing can quite match his shade of blue.

“Can I?” She asks, her eyes focused on the short sharp breaths forming on Harrison’s lips.

He nods, waiting for the dream to end, to wake up and be reminded this isn’t real.

Her lips brush against his and she waits for him to reciprocate before moving further. She’s warm against him, almost burning up or maybe that’s his heart? Harrison can’t tell, in fact he feels light headed and his stomach twists into a knot as he kisses her back. Her lips are so soft, and she tastes like his mint toothpaste, the one she uses now, since they’ve gotten in the habit of brushing their teeth together.

He pulls away, only because he’s sure he’s stopped breathing, “pinch me.”

It makes her laugh, it’s melodic and Harrison closes his eyes, resting his forehead against hers, soaking up each note.

“You’re not dreaming,” she murmurs, her lips finding his again.

“Pinch me anyway,” he mumbles against her lips, he can’t find it in him to pull away.

She gently pinches his cheek and he waits to wake up. But he doesn’t. Tonight they don’t sleep much, random thoughts and words are shared between soft kisses, never moving further than a gentle hand on cheek, soft skin against skin.

Neither of them mind as she traces his cheekbone, the moonlight cutting across his skin and illuminating every imperfection.

“Thank you, for everything.”

She doesn’t need to say it. She doesn’t need to thank him.

“Don’t thank me,” he says as she snuggles into his chest, her hair tickling his chin.

“I don’t know why you do it, why you take care of me. I’m sure you’d much rather be out with Ian and the rest of them-,”

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be,” Harrison cuts her off and he watches as she turns in his arms, her eyes wandering to the window, staring up at the moon, the stars. He wonders if she feels the same way.

“Don’t say that just because-,”

“I’ve never lied to you,” Harrison murmurs, his arm rests against her shoulder and for a half a second he thinks she flinches, but she relaxes almost immediately.

“It’s rotten work,” she huffs, laughing low in her throat.

“What is?”

“Sometimes I feel like I’m poison, draining the life out of everyone around me. I don’t want you to be as lifeless as me. It’s rotten work being around a person like me.”

“Well, unless you’re planning on killing me…” he’s joking, for the most part.

“No! I wouldn’t, I couldn’t,” she mumbles, the sky is forgotten as she turns back around, resting her hand on his chest, right over his heart.

“You know, it’s not rotten work, caring for you. I don’t think I could ever get tired of spending time with you.”

“Liar.”

“I’m anything but. I just wish you’d believe me.”

“I don’t deserve it.”

He wants to ask, he wants to ask why she doesn’t think she’s worth every single second he spends with her. He wants to cradle her face in his hands as gently as she cradled his. He wants to whisper, he wants to shout that she’s worth it, she’s so god damn worth it that he can’t see himself doing anything else but share the same twin size bed with her for the rest of his life.

But by now, he can tell when she’s feeling drained, emotionally, mentally, physically.

She needs to sleep, and she isn’t going to listen to anything else that he plans on saying. So he tucks those words back into his mind and lets her sleep.

***

Their life isn’t perfect, it’s far from it. Especially on days Y/N is so depressed she can’t get out of bed. There are days when she’s downright mean and it forces Harrison to take a step back and realize that she’s been through some stuff, she’s seen some shit, and she has every right to get upset and angry at the world. Besides, the world is a cruel place, and it sometimes feels that she is their sole target.

He does things to try to brighten her up, whether it be getting her favorite cannoli from Mike’s Pastry or a smoothie from a local farmer’s market. Today he brought her both, because before he left, she was yelling about how useless it was to be here and how she wishes she was back in Idaho.

“Y/N?” Harrison calls out, climbing the stairs two at a time with the food and a gift.

He hears the shower going and calls out to her, resting his head on the bathroom door.

She doesn’t answer and immediately his mind flies to worse case scenarios.

To her taking her anger and depression and turning it inward on herself, so much so that she can’t come back from it.

“Y/N!” Harrison shouts, voice unsteady as he opens the door. He doesn’t want to invade her privacy, but he will just to make sure that the worst case scenario he built up isn’t coming true.

Normally there’s a shadow of the person showering on the shower curtain. But as Harrison sets everything aside he finds Y/N’s shadow curled up in the corner, the water almost drowning out her cries.

“Y/N, darling, are you okay?” Harrison asks, kneeling down at the edge of the tub, hesitant to push back the curtain.

“I can’t breath,” she gasps and no matter how much of a gentleman Harrison is, he can’t sit outside the tub and not check on her now.

“Y/N, I’m going to open the curtain, I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m a monster,” she shouts as Harrison pulls back the curtain, revealing her crying form.

“What?” Harrison asks, watching her continue to shake.

“I- I’m here, I ran from my problem and he, he’s dead because of me, I’m a monster,” she sobs, the water starting to prune her skin.

Harrison has absolutely no idea what Y/N is talking about, but he knows one thing for sure, that something happened to her or because of her that has changed her forever.

“Come on Y/N, we can talk about this if you want, but you need to get out of the shower, need to get dried off,” Harrison reaches over to grab her arm but she pulls away violently, quivering at the thought of his touch.

He stands up, turning the water off, it’s scalding and he wonders how she hasn’t practically burnt her skin off yet.

He waits a moment for her to come out, grabbing a towel from the closet and standing at the edge of the tub.

“Y/N…”

“Just leave me alone! You should hate me! I don’t-,” she starts as Harrison leans down, trying to pick her up.

“Go away!” She screams, batting at his hands as he tries to, at this point drag her out of the bath if he has to.

“No, Y/N, you have to understand, please, please understand I’m not going anywhere,” Harrison pleads as he struggles with what to do now.

Fuck it, if she won’t get out of the tub, he’ll join her. So that’s what Harrison does, clothes and all, sitting behind her and drawing her body against his as she sobs. She doesn’t resist him however, and that’s the most important part of this exchange. He just wants her to feel safe, like he’s the one person she can feel safe with.

“It’s okay,” he brushes back her wet hair as she cries until her breathing levels out and there aren’t anymore tears left to cry.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“This kid, Harry, he uh, he was in a coma. And Jake, Jake killed him. This innocent kid who never did anything wrong in his life. Jake killed him to get back at me, to get back at Tom.”

“Why is that your fault then, darling?” Harrison asks as he begins wringing out her hair, not a care in the world that his clothes are now completely soaked as well.

“Because, if I didn’t get involved with T-T-Tom, then Jake would have no reason to try to put him in his place like that! If I didn’t put my stupid fucking heart out like that, this wouldn’t have happened!”

Harrison doesn’t have the courage to ask if she meant the two of them.

“Is that why you came looking for Ian?”

“Tom he- he blamed me for Harry’s death. And he- I never thought he was capable of hurting me until that moment. And I couldn’t- I couldn’t stay while he was so angry like that. He would’ve killed me. But maybe I deserve that.”

“No, hey, look at me,” Harrison pleads, his heart literally aching in his chest as she stares back at him with trembling lips and tear tracks down her cheeks.

“What? How can you know who I am and not think I deserve to die?”

“Did you kill this kid with your own two hands?”

She shakes her head no, so Harrison continues.

“So you kill bad people. You didn’t kill this kid, so you need to get into that mindset. You need to see yourself how I see you.”

“I feel like I’m a rain cloud or a fucking black hole, just sucking the life out of everything.”

“You’re anything but,” Harrison tries to reassure her.

“Don’t lie to me just to make me feel better.”

“Okay, you might be a rain cloud. But more than that, you’re an entire day’s worth of weather. And what happens after a rain?”

She sniffles but doesn’t respond, so Harrison pulls out the small velvet black box he wasn’t expecting to give her until later tonight. His jeans are soaking wet and it makes it harder to grab, but when he does, his hand is shaking harder than Y/N is.

“You know, when I was a kid and I was having a bad day, my mum used to sing this song for me,” Harrison opens the box and holds the necklace up to show her.

“What is this?” She asks, her fingers curling around the sun pendant.

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy, when skies are grey. You’ll never know dear, how much I love you, please don’t take my sunshine away.”

***

It’s been almost four months since Y/N showed up on Ian’s doorstep. Harrison wants to celebrate the small strides she’s making by cooking her breakfast. Tomorrow they’re supposed to go stake out a hit that Harrison will be running, and Ian is letting Y/N go with him.

“What’re you making?” Y/N asks, sleepily rubbing her eyes as she sits at the kitchen counter.

“Pancakes,” Harrison smiles, flipping one over before turning back to Y/N.

She has tears in her eyes that she quickly tries to hide. She’s not fast enough. Harrison often catches her before she can hide her emotions from him. She isn’t sure if she appreciates this ability of his, but he’s always able to calm her down when she gets worked up.

“Okay, if you don’t like pancakes, darling, we don’t have to have them,” Harrison quickly turns off the stove and walks around the counter, holding his arms out for her.

He always waits for her to make the first move. To pull him into a hug, to sleep by his side, to kiss him. He would never want her to feel pressured into anything, make her feel like she’s required to reciprocate what he wants to give to her.

She buries herself inside his arms, her body shaking with sobs.

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine,” Harrison sings lightly, feeling her slowly bring herself back to reality and out of whatever dark space pancakes seemed to send her to. “Sing with me, darling,” he murmurs as he rubs her back, “you make me happy when skies are grey.”

Her voice is thick with tears but she continues along with him, “you’ll never know dear, how much I love you, please don’t take my sunshine away.”

“So no pancakes?” Harrison asks hesitantly as she sits back down.

“I, uh, I prefer waffles,” she sniffles, wiping the tears from her eyes.

“Waffles it is.”

After work, Harrison buys a waffle maker and all the ingredients he needs to cook up the best waffle recipe he can find. The look in Y/N’s eyes when he sets up the waffle maker is enough to make Harrison melt into a puddle on the floor like a schoolboy whose crush notices him.

“Please tell me you like your waffles sweet,” Harrison pulls out a can of whipped cream from the fridge, raising an eyebrow at Y/N.

She nods eagerly, “what’s a waffle without maple syrup and whipped cream?”

Harrison chuckles as she takes the plate and can from him, loading the waffle with whipped cream.

“God, I love you.”

Maybe he didn’t mean for those words to slip out, but they did. They’ve been stuck in his throat for three months now, ever since the first night she crawled into his bed and asked him to hold her.

The whipped cream can cuts off, filling the kitchen with a silence that absolutely shatters Harrison’s heart.

She doesn’t need to say anything. Her face, shocked with slight confusion, mouth wide open and eyebrows pinched together, tells him everything he needs to know.

“Why?” She can’t even look at him as she begins to cut into her food.

“What do you mean why? Why do I love you?”

She nods as she begins to eat, still not meeting his eyes.

“You showed up when I was beginning to doubt joining Ian, don’t tell him that though. And you were closed off. Mean and cranky, and I mean, you still are-,”

“Hey!” She scowls, flicking a bit of whipped cream at him.

“The face you make when you’re mad is really cute. But even when you put on the grumpiest face, I know that you care a lot, about Ian, about the people in your life.”

“About you.”

“Hmm?” Harrison has to pinch himself, wondering if he is truly hearing what he thinks he’s hearing.

“I care about you,” she says, shoveling more of the waffle into her mouth before she stands up, the chair scraping against the floor.

“You care about me?” Harrison asks, watching her nervously pick at the fingernail of her thumb, nodding as she wraps her arms around his neck.

“I know you want me to say that I- that I-, fuck I’m sorry, but I can’t. And you know if I said it right now, it would only be because of what you said, because of how you feel. And you deserve someone who can say that back because it’s true, because she has no reservations and shitty feelings and emotional shortcomings.”

“But I’ll stay, through your shitty feelings and your emotional shortcomings.”

“Don’t know why,” she mumbles.

“You’re worth it, Y/N, don’t you see how incredibly fucking worth it you are?”

“I’m worth it?” She asks, as if she is discovering this for the first time as well.

“You’re so fucking worth it, there aren’t enough words in the dictionary or our time on this earth to tell you how worth it you are.”

***

“Darling, what’s wrong?” Harrison asks as he brushes hair out of her eyes, kissing her forehead before sitting up to get a good look at her, watching the way her hands start to shake.

“Kiss me like you hate me.”

He’s confused, because he figured this might be the night she decides to go further with him, to share a part of herself he wasn’t sure he’s ever seen. But why would she ask him to kiss her like that?

Aggressively?

“What do you-,”

“I don’t want you to make love to me, I- I can’t make love to you.”

“Darling I’m not going to kiss you like I hate you, I don’t hate you, I couldn’t hate you.”

“You should hate me,” she sobs, curling in on herself as Harrison lays down next to her, pulling her into his chest.

“No, darling, it’s okay, shhh, I couldn’t hate you, darling, you could be the wicked witch of the west and I’d still look at you like you hung the stars in the sky. Maybe that’s why you’re cranky, you’ve spent so long bringing light to everyone else, you never saved any for yourself. What’s wrong?”

“Nobody’s ever, well except- and I can’t, I just can’t,” she continues to cry, her tears soaking his shirt as he runs a hand through her hair.

“It’s okay, we don’t have to do anything, I would be perfectly content with you in my arms, just laying here,” Harrison assures her, keeping her as calm as he could even when he felt like his world simply didn’t make sense.

“I’ve killed people, you know.”

“I know,” Harrison says, calm and even.

“Lots of people.”

“Bad people.”

She shifts around in his arms, facing him. Her breath is shaky as he wipes the tears from her face and kisses her forehead.

“You gave people light by taking bad people out of their lives.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that I’m a bad person,” she sniffles as Harrison brings his lips along her face, kissing every single inch of skin.

“There’s such a blurred line between good and bad, right and wrong. How many people have you saved by killing murderers? By killing rapists?”

She shrugs and it shocks Harrison how she can’t see what he sees.

“Too many to count. And tomorrow you’re getting back in the game, staking out the new hit with me. It’ll be fun but if you’re uncomfortable, we stop, got it?”

“Got it,” she nods, letting his warmth calm her down and lull her to sleep.

***

“Y/N, when was the uh, last time you had your period?” Harrison asked, wondering how long it typically took for someone to start showing.

“What? Uh two months and uhh 20 days ago,” her eyes widened and she stopped about five feet short of the brownstone, turning to Harrison, “I’m not, it’s uh, it’s the stress.”

***

It’s been a week and a half since Y/N left Harrison on the curbside dreaming of children and a life together. It’s been a week and a half and all Harrison has been able to do is dream of her, growing old with her, a kid, as many kids as she wants. He dreams of a life where he can play catch or push them on the swing set. It’s a stupid dream, especially now that she’s gone. She promised to check in, but it’s been absolute and complete radio silence since she left.

Most days Ian doesn’t ask much of him, understanding how torn up Harrison is after she left. Today was one of those days where Harrison sits in bed drinking straight from a bottle of expensive rum and stares at his phone, at her contact photo. It’s the only photo of her that he has. He took it one day while they were drinking hot chocolate at this small bakery in the North End. She has a whipped cream mustache and is flushing as Harrison holds his phone up, snapping a cheeky picture. She protested at first but he insisted that it could be used for his lockscreen. She immediately stole a picture of him as well, head tilted back in a laugh. He wonders if it’s still her lockscreen.

As if by some twist of fate, maybe his luck is finally turning around, his phone rings. And it’s Y/N.

He’s so excited he spills the remaining bottle of rum as he tries to set it down on the counter. But that could wait. Y/N couldn’t.

“Y/N? Is that you?” Harrison says, choking back tears as her ragged voice greets him on the other end.

“Haz?” There’s a short pause and several sharp breaths before she continues.

“I need you, Harrison. I made a huge mistake.”

***

Taglist (removed anyone who hasn’t interacted w the fic sorry I don’t want to type out a bunch of urls and have nobody interact; if you want to be added back message me!): @gioandreolli @honeymoonparker @itsjusttor @averyfosterthoughts @worldoftom @angelhaz11 @rebekkah4766

#tom holland #harrison osterfield #harrison osterfield imagine #harrison osterfield angst #take me out #wow i didnt see this coming when i started writing tmo yet here we are #tom holland imagine #tom holland series

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the-navistar-carol · 5 years ago

Text

Daminette Songfic — “Stronger” from Finding Neverland

Ok so technically this is a follow-up to my ‘Invisible Thread’ fic because 1) that BROKE 500 NOTES THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH and 2) literally everyone who reblogged or commented requested that to happen. There is a time jump from ‘Invisible Thread’ to here, because they know each others’ identities and are now currently dating.

This is nowhere near as good as ‘Invisible Thread’ and I can say that freely. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!! @ozmav @maribat-archive :)))

Before you read, trigger warning — death, gore, swearing.

In the darkest place is the faintest light

Gives me hope to face the hardest fight

Marinette. He had to get back to Marinette.

Hawkmoth would conquer all of Paris, maybe more.

The only person that stood in his way was Ladybug, was Marinette, his soulmate.

Damian cast a scorching glare around his surroundings. He stood in a cave, the only exit caved in. It was large enough for him to see the cavern around him, and too empty for his liking.

Stalactites thick around as his wrist hung from the ceiling, some of them reaching the floor as columns.

Someone had been elegant enough as to provide one, single, red LED lantern. Or, rather, it had fallen in with him. It sat tipped over five feet away, glowing like a sun.

The mark on his hand, usually pink, silver, and blue, was bathed in red.

Pain delivers me

His side flared, and it was only then that he remembered he’d been clawed.

Right.

Stripping off his shirt (it was too thin for the Parisian weather, anyway, and gray) he tore it to carefully bandage the injury, cleaning what he could.

Damn cats and their claws.

The white claw-tipped gloves had turned crimson and then a ruddy brown as they’d gone through his side.

And now he was here.

No matter. He’d worked through worse.

And he’d work through this.

I don't need their sympathy

Growling, Damian stalked over to the cave-in, surveying it for possible weaknesses.

He could’ve punted me into a place easier to escape from.

The rubble wasn’t evenly sized, all jagged and sharp, which was almost bothersome, but they formed a rough slope.

An endless Cataclysm would create problems.

Which it does.

So he set to work, flinging rocks away from the top by the white light of the lantern. Next camping trip, he would insist on the Coleman brand. They definitely worked.

The hole grew, slowly but steadily, and he worked through his pain and exhaustion.

Gonna have to try better than that.

Cause they can't take away my might

Where I go they will never find

The hole wouldn’t be more than a crawl space between the roof of the cave mouth and the rubble. It wouldn’t be comfortable, but it didn’t need to be.

He’d take a scraped back or battered hands if that was what it took.

Because that was what it took.

And he would take more.

For Gotham, for his family. For Paris, even if he didn’t really like the city.

For her.

The hole grew.

I've got to be stronger

Reach up higher

How far back did this blasted cave-in go?!

No matter how much he removed, hands bleeding on the tips of his fingers, on his palms, wrists, forearms, there was always another rock.

His soulmate mark was crusted in rusty brown. Its pretty colors could barely be seen.

He couldn’t let himself dwell on this. If he stopped to think, he’d be crushed.

Literally? Maybe.

The rocks digging into his spine, the backs of his ribs, they agreed with the sentiment.

Tch. He had had to prove himself to a good many things.

The rocks would be another one on that list.

Dumb rocks.

He’d move a mountain if that was what it took.

Must dig deeper

Find the fire

Finally.

Damian had never put any stock into the whole ‘light at the end of the tunnel’ thing. But now?

Now, as he crawled out of a hole in the ground, bleeding and covered in dirt, and into the fresh Parisian air, he believed it.

The young, green trees on the sides of the streets were still tied to their support poles. Rubble covered the paved streets, cars of all colors and sizes had been flung into buildings.

Bodies — bodies — littered the ground. Blood pooled in patches, rivers, trickles. No matter who or where, it was always the same deep red. Almost black, even.

His mouth dried, his tongue felt too large for his mouth. Hawkmoth hasn’t killed people before.

Ironic. The one person in charge of this damn mess was the one person (was he even a person?) he knew hadn’t ended a life.

Be enlightened

Can't be frightened anymore

His legs wobbled beneath him, so he picked up a wooden pole from where it had been uprooted, next to its slender, frail tree (the leaves were still green, but the birds’ nest had fallen, its eggs had cracked) for stability.

The birds wouldn’t return. Not without the Miraculous Cure, if it happened this time.

People had died this time. Maybe this time, Hawkmoth really was holding up to his promise that he would do anything to reach the Miraculi.

People died, he reminded himself with a snarl which was suspiciously animalistic. That woman with blonde hair, her glasses were shattered and blood stained the back of her hideous leopard-print blouse.

That man with the buzz-cut, he stared up at the sky with unseeing eyes as pale as the sky. They would see the sky no longer.

That child — that girl — lay in the middle of the road, half-curled into a ball. Her red hair spilled over her back, blending with the puncture wound through her chest.

Hawkmoth is going to fucking pay.

I can run now, so much faster

Now defeat won't be my master

Damian struggled on, his right hand clutching the pole and his left at his side, putting pressure on his injury. One step at a time.

The sounds of conflict grew now, and he picked up the pace.

Shouts echoed through the quiet streets of Paris (this quiet wasn’t because of peace, not anymore) of determination and rage.

Angel.

He saw a flash of blue and black, and heard a zap of electricity. The familiar whizz of a grapple sounded from above, and he was scooped up off the ground and launched into the air.

With a hiss of pain, he scrabbled in the grip until he realized the familiar person next to him was Nightwing.

“Keep calm, little D,” Nightwing murmured, and dropped him in an alleyway, away from the fighting.

“We’ve got to stop this.”

For to conquer the demons I won't have to wait any longer

I've got to be stronger

He wasn’t Robin right now. There was no cape behind him, nor military-grade boots on his feet. Not even a domino mask, to preserve his identity.

He wasn’t his mother’s assassin, either, perfectly poised and ready to strike with his injury.

He was only Damian Wayne, armed with a splintering garden pole.

But he pressed on, only determination, spite, and willpower left in his arsenal.

No fancy tricks or midair flips.

Just him.

You'll see in time

You will survive

He limped along the streets of Paris, heading straight for the fight. Well, not really. He had to take breaks when he felt like his side was on fire, which was a lot more than he was used to.

A red blur zoomed through the rooftops and he tensed, thinking it was another akuma of Hawkmoth — well, Scarlet Moth now — but when the figure landed before him, it was all he could do to not lurch into her arms.

Ladybug did it for him, squeezing him tight. He didn’t even complain when his side erupted, pole clattering to the ground as he returned the hug, arms twining around her.

“I thought you were dead,” she whispered, shaking her head. “But then Nightwing told me he found you. Rena is out of commission, and Carapace’ll follow soon.

“I need you, Damian. Not as Robin.”

She let go of him, standing straight, and held out a hand. In it rested a black octagonal box, red design twining across its facets.

“I present to you the Miraculous of the Tiger, which gives the power of invisibility. Your brothers are already outfitted.”

He took it without hesitation.

Too soon to run

Too late to hide

He didn’t even flinch when the kwami — Roaar — zoomed out in a burst of yellow light. When it dimmed, he spotted a black-and-yellow panjas bracelet, which he slipped on, listening to her.

“Who are you?” the kwami demanded, buzzing into his face, her tiny tail lashing. “You’re injured, you’ll never do!”

Ladybug frowned, shaking her head at the kwami. “Roaar. Leave your personal feelings out of this, he’s the only one who’d fit you.”

She sniffed, tiny fangs flashing, but turned to him anyway. “I assume you know the drill. For five minutes, you will become invisible with the command Hunter. All you have to do to transform is say stripes rise, and to detransform, it’s stripes fade.”

Damian nodded to Roaar. “I look forward to working with you.” At her nod of approval, he tightened his fist. “Roaar, stripes rise!”

In a flash of magenta light, his pain faded and new strength rose to take its place.

It's your destiny

Every pace, every strife

He grinned, feeling the sharpened teeth against his gums. Ladybug closed her eyes, let out a long breath, and unhooked her yo-yo. “Let’s get going.”

Roaar had given him a croquet-like mallet and discs on a belt, the mallet on his back like Chat Noir’s baton. His suit was red, black stripes offset by white criss-crossing his frame. The armor on it was lighter, surprisingly supple, and almost changed shades as he moved into the light. Combat boots similar to his Robin boots laced halfway up his shin, the suit’s gloves retaining the familiar fins.

Damian glanced into a shattered window, taking in his reflection. His hair was now shot through with red, almost like a tiger’s stripes. The domino mask across his face was like so, a deep auburn with the beginnings of white strips at its corners, and unlike Ladybug’s, two white fang-shaped crescents peeled down over his jawbone.

He unhooked the mallet, testing its weight. It was perfectly balanced, made of red material with, of course, black stripes running diagonally across its length.

“I agree. Let’s go.”

And he sprang into the air, super-charged with the kwami’s godlike strength, Ladybug zipping beside him on her yo-yo.

I am stronger

Reach up higher

Rena Rouge and Carapace were nowhere to be seen. A monkey hero wielding a staff had entered the fray aside Queen Bee, who could only have been Tim. An ox hero fought aside them, charging at akuma in his way — Jason. Clones of a rooster hero, however odd, fought with only the acrobatics of Dick.

A smile almost tugged its way onto his face. They were here. His brothers, they were here.

Scarlet Moth and Mayura — or the akumatized Catalyst — were nowhere to be found.

His feeling of something close to pride was shot down as Queen Bee screamed, Ladybug’s eyes widening as a white (and now rusty red) figure shot through their ranks, white claws turning red as they dug into her side.

Chat Blanc.

Fury twisted his insides, and he leaped down, hefting one of the discs. Trusting in the Miraculous, he tossed it into the air and whacked it with the mallet, sending it flying.

The disc shot through akuma like a rebounding chakram, smashing bones, armor, and akumatized objects at will, and struck Chat Blank in the back with a solid crunch.

Digging deeper

Find the fire

Chat Blanc fell, scrabbling at the ground. Damian snagged his ring with a sneer, smashing the center gem. An akuma flitted out, which Ladybug purified. He tucked the ring into a pocket, for her to take to the master later.

Queen Bee had fallen, Tim getting her to safety as Jason and Dick closed ranks around him and Ladybug.

“I see you’ve got a new outfit, little D,” Dick grinned.

“Tt. It has a better look than that ridiculous color scheme of yours.”

“Ah, you’re just jealous.”

“Compare sizes later, boys,” Ladybug ordered, yo-yo spinning. “We’ve got a job to do.”

“Can do,” Dick replied cheerily, readying his balero.

The akuma ran at them, and Jason, with the fortitude of the Ox, met them in stride, plowing through their ranks like, well, a bull in a china shop.

He fought akuma after akuma, breaking object after object as the three brothers — four as soon as Tim returned — made a circle around Ladybug, who purified the akuma.

Rena Rouge returned to the fight, joining their fight, but Carapace and Queen Bee were nowhere to be seen. “Carapace is taking care of Queenie,” she relayed. “They’re safe.”

Were they?

Feel enlightened

Won't be frightened, anymore

Finally — finally — they stood up against none. A lone scarlet butterfly flitted into view, catching Ladybug’s eye. She purified it, then began to zip in the direction from where it had come. The brothers followed her, trusting in her judgement as Scarlet Moth sent out another red akuma, purified it, and followed its course again.

One way or another, they would find Hawkmoth.

A beeping from Tim’s circlet alerted him that he was about to transform back, so he fell back, promising to catch up.

The team found themselves staring at Agreste Mansion, as fury built in Damian. Ladybug’s yo-yo whizzed by, catching another akuma as it flitted from the window.

“Damn him,” growled Jason. “Go fucking figure.”

She said nothing, merely readied her yo-yo and launched herself skyward, only to shatter the window of Hawkmoth’s lair. The three brothers and Rena thudded down beside her, ready for justice.

I can run now

So much faster

It was five on two. Hawkmoth never stood a chance. He was first rammed into the wall by Jason, Catalyst attacked by Rena and Jason at once.

Jason stepped aside to let Damian deal his blows, and then he, too, stood to the side as Ladybug stood over the weakened Hawkmoth, no sneer on her face.

Instead, it was almost… one of pity.

Rena Rouge yanked Catalyst’s akumatized iPad away, smashing it. The akuma form bubbled away to reveal Nathalie Sancour, a flickering Peacock Miraculous on her chest. She gently unclasped it, cradling the pin in her hands.

She crouched, and removed the brooch of the Butterfly. A purple light flashed, and Gabriel Agreste lay at her feet. One blow from Jason sent him unconscious.

The fox superheroine handed Ladybug the Peacock Miraculous, and the red-themed superheroine gave her a nod of thanks. “Rooster, alert the police.”

Dick saluted, and bounded out the window.

Now defeat won't be my master

They were done. They were done.

As the last traces of Miraculous Ladybug swept across the skies of Paris, the four Gothamites and the four Parisians stood on the top of the rooftops in wonder.

“Your Miraculi, please.” Ladybug’s voice was thick as the Butterfly, Peacock, and Black Cat kwami floated at her shoulders, almost melancholy that this would end.

“Orikko, end my cry.”

“Xuppu, show’s over.”

“Stompp, rampage’s done.”

“Roaar, stripes fade.”

The four sons of Bruce Wayne stood on the rooftop, Queen Bee nodding. “I thought she might pick you guys.”

“Wayzz, shell off.”

“Trixx, let’s rest.”

“Pollen, buzz off.”

Alya Césaire, Nino Lahiffe, and Chloé Bourgeois stood before them, kwami at their shoulder.

They looked to Ladybug, who gazed at them back with tears in her eyes.

“Tikki, spots off.”

For to conquer the demons

I won't have to wait any longer

Summer had begun. Paris was beginning to heal. Gabriel and Nathalie were imprisoned, as was Lila. Adrien was sent to live with his uncle in England, clearly getting the easy way out.

Alya, Nino, and Chloé walked out of school with Marinette, chatting happily amongst themselves. New earrings shone in Marinette’s ears, this time permanently jeweled in red-and-black. In fact, the four all carried tokens similar to their Miraculi, some subtler than others.

The Wayne boys met them at the bottom of the stairs, eager for a new start.

Damian pulled Marinette into a searing kiss, and his soul mark warmed against her jawline, her own happily tingling as she snaked her arm around his neck, deepening the kiss.

Alya’s palm flashed green and blue as she snapped a picture on her camera, Nino’s shimmering orange and white when he pushed up his glasses.

Chloé’s soul mark was clear for the world to see on her right shoulder, red and gold and black starkly contrasting with her white strapless crop-top. Kagami, happy to be out of her mother’s clutches for once, waved a greeting with her yellow-and-black hand.

They could finally, finally come out on top.

They weren’t perfect, but they were better than when they had begun.

I am stronger

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alchemist-shizun · 5 years ago

Text

Do cats exist? Debate.

Or: The Welcome To Night Vale au nobody asked for

Word count: 1,823

Taglist: @bookwormscififan @suffering-is-my-comfort-zone @pistachio-lan @pushussmollworld @be-more-chaotic @quietlypondering

Warnings: None that I can think of, there are references to the 4/9/16 episodes.

Characters: Virgil, Deceit, Logan(Mentioned)

Relationship(s): Implied Loceit (we have Dee pining a lot)

Summary: The town has a new favorite mascotte! That's right everybody, give it up for Virgil the black cat, about to charm his way to the conquering of the entire solar system. But, for now, he's sleeping and eating all day and giving out occasional love advice.

A/n: Me? Still refusing to give Deceit a name and just rolling with that? More likely than you think. Just so you know, at some point I wrote "Carlos" instead of "Logan". Another funny thing: I sent the first paragraph to a friend (Hi Gaia if you're reading!) that knows nothing about ts nor wtnv and demanded I absolutely sent her the fic when finished so, peak weirdness everybody. I had a lot of fun writing this, I kinda got in the vibe and just went for it, I could even say I'm somehow proud of how it turned out! But enough of me, I hope you enjoy this little piece 💖

✾

What was a perfectly ordinary day for Night Vale, with its wondrous citizens conducting their quotidian tasks and duties, the sun setting down maybe a slight bit later than the other days and the occasional pet kidnapped by ancient forgotten underground tribes that none should know about and that don't actually exist, couldn't end in anything but a perfectly ordinary night.

Deceit closed the door behind himself with a satisfied sigh; another eventful working day for the radio station had just passed and he let himself wander around the building in search of the bathrooms. Because, you know, sometimes they liked to change places.

Of course, his mere intentions were freshening up a bit and going home once and for all for the night, only that a looming figure above him darkened the room by covering the single source of light on the ceiling and caught his attention immediately.

When he looked up, he was met with a sleeping cat seemingly suspended in the air right next to the sink, which was his destination. Now, don't get him wrong, he wasn't exactly a cat person, but he wasn't a monster either and, well, he was going to wake the poor tired creature if he were to make too much noise!

Walking softly, Deceit made his way to the sink, eyeing carefully the floating creature.

Thoughts of the latest ongoing events traveled through his mind every so often mixing up with other inexplicable ones and just as much frequently going back to that amazingly stunning scientist.

Wasn't it remarkable how washing your face pulled you into an ineffable stream of thoughts in a matter of miserable seconds? Truly one of the quirks of the existence of life.

Deceit started walking back to the door when he heard shuffling in the air and low growling. He turned back to see the black cat on his back, still hovering above the ground, then rolling to get a good view of who had dared to intrude in his new territory.

He had to admit, he didn't realize it at first, but he would've gone back to that moment in the future and he would've labeled it as the exact instant he got raptured by those fascinating different coloured eyes, two little sparkly and attentive irises in the middle of ashen fur. The left one looked like a glacier, not that he had ever seen one close enough to determine its existence, but he could sense a chilly breeze at the sole thought; the right one, though, he wasn't sure. At first glance, it seemed green, only for it to then change to a light brown and, eventually, the more Deceit forced his sight, the more he thought he was seeing them at the same time in a weird yellowish combination. He decided to stop staring, as it wasn't polite.

Nothing of the animal's aura felt threatening, or alarmed at all. It was simply there, bouncing in the nothingness of the room, waiting for Deceit to make any kind of move with no particular expectation.

So he paced forward and gently reached for the cat with one hand: it didn't move, except for the slow calculated heaving of its chest with every breath. Deceit's hand reached the top of its head and, as soon as they shared contact through little caresses, the cat began to purr in contempt and closed its eyes, rubbing its head against his fingers as it decided it could trust him. A half-smile appeared on his lips.

« Oh my! » one of Deceit's coworkers stormed into the bathroom as soon as they saw the scene. « This is the most adorable being I've ever seen! »

Soon enough, a small pack of people was huddled around the cat as he (one of them stated he was, in fact, male) solely licked his paws and was offered food and water.

Now that was good news for the radio; Deceit was aware of the little classification of information that had been going on for millennia, thanks to Erodotus. First priority was a witnessed action, second place was for the action that a person heard from a witness and third came the determining of which could be categorized as potentially true events and which were definitely made up.

Sometimes there was a thin line between the two.

So, yes, as a witness, as soon as he got the chance, he was definitely going to update the town on their new claimed pet.

In a matter of weeks, he had become everybody's best friend and the town's listeners were always more than eager to be informed of how the adorable chubby boy of the radio station's bathroom was doing! Deceit himself couldn't stop sneaking out at times to give him a couple of treats.

I mean, come on, who could even resist those cute demanding eyes? Khoshekh's glare was too much to bear, he kept on getting what he wanted every single time. Gee, what an intelligent and charming cat he was. Who were humans against him? He could have ruled the world if he wanted. Was he going to? You could perceive a certain sparkle in his eyes ...

Maybe.

One day.

But at that time, he only cared for his precious treats and he was fine that way.

Five weeks had passed from the last update on the wonderful feline, when Deceit shut the door of the bathroom behind himself in a movement that reminded him much about the first time he saw Khoshekh.

His face fell in his hands.

« You need to know this. » Deceit's half-muffled voiced traveled through his fingers and reached the cat's ears. Something shifted in the air, but he was too busy pacing around the room and looking at the pavement tiles to realize what had happened.

The light of the room just a bit darker, the shade of the cat just a bit bigger.

Deceit trailed off, gushing about how Logan had called him and how he had acted like a total dumbass, but hey, if that was the price he had to pay to talk to him, he was more than willing to embarrass himself even more.

« For real, though. Can you believe I just said "neat"? Who even says it anymore? » he pinched the bridge of his nose as he heard a humming noise, a little too human to be coming from a cat.

Then again, Deceit was too lost in auto-commiseration to notice.

« Why don't you just ask him out? »

Wait, what?

He had been sure to close the door earlier, he hadn't heard none coming in at all, was he that lost in thought that he-

When his eyes turned to the door, there was none standing in its place, or coming either in or out.

Oh gosh, oh no.

Deceit sighed deeply. Did someone really turn invisible again?

« Over here. » the voice came back from behind him, which caused him to turn to the actual source.

Or not.

In front of him there was a boy definitely younger than him, completely dressed in black clothing and purple patches on his too big but definitely comfortable hoodie, which matched his hair color.

Now, where did he come from?

« Where's the cat? »

« What cat? There's never been a cat. »

Deceit notices the boy was floating mid-air and he had heterochromia. A blue eye and a greenish-brown one.

« You're absolutely right, my mistake. »

The boy crossed his legs and shrinked in his baggy clothing, letting his body be comforted by the softness of the materials.

« So, why don't you do it? » he repeated, looking down on him with a seemingly sleeping expression. Where those his dark circles right under his eyes?

« Oh, I don't think I could ever muster up the courage. »

« And yet, you're able to talk to the entire town at once. »

As much as that was true, Deceit felt deep down that there was no way one could compare Logan's stupendous existence with the one of an ordinary Night Vale citizen. There was really no way.

« He said he didn't need to meet me. » he retorted, clearly just making up excuses at that point.

« He did call you, of all people, though. »

Deceit's eyes widened at the realization. « Oh my god you're right. »

His head fell back in his hands as he replayed the entire conversation in his head for the billionth time, a quiet snicker from the boy filled the silence that was left.

The boy watched him talk to himself about infinite possibilities of where that was probably going.

Then, as if on cue, as if some kind of deity was watching down on them and deciding that was the best moment to strike with a train of coincidences, with a smile on their face so wide it might have fallen from the sky at any time, Deceit's phone rang again.

« It's him! » he exclaimed, surprise in his eyes. Another call? Was it Easter? Christmas came early?

« Go, have you privacy, it's almost time to go back to your room anyway. » how the boy knew that he didn't know, but he complied and excused himself, only to find his working place right next to the bathroom door.

It seemed that day was starting to favor him.

The boy in the bathroom waited.

He floated around the room, mostly by the sink, occasionally changing position. No other worker came by, apart from that lover boy.

He remembered him as the one to give him the most food and care, which would have explained his willingness to change form in his presence.

He had just started to drift back off to sleep, his head barely brushing the wall, when Deceit stormed back in with a huge grin on his face. Was that even a normal facial expression?

« I may have a date. »

« See? What did I tell you? »

He had barely time to speak as Deceit started explaining with a painstakingly accuracy every detail of the phone call and how Logan's voice sounded, so much that the boy could have perfectly imagined it and believed to have already heard it once.

« I need to get ready. » the man started making his way toward the exit.

« Isn't it tomorrow? »

« Yes, but I don't think I'm going to handle it if I don't mentally prepare myself for this. »

« Touché. »

After exchanging their goodbyes (and some food), Deceit was halfway through the door when the boy called out.

« And please, for the love of the glow cloud, tell them my name is Virgil! »

And Virgil hoped he had heard him, despite being lost in his own thoughts and scenarios.

He truly did hope.

#virgil sanders #logan sanders #sympathetic deceit #deceit sanders #loceit #sanders sides #fanfiction #ts fanfiction #sanders sides fanfiction #wtnv #welcome to night vale #sanders sides au #wtnv au #purp's writings

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